A Long Way From Home
by Akuma Shisou
Summary: (Cancelled) Now being rewritten.
1. A Late Night Guest

"Monsieur Delacour?" a maid poked her head through the door, "you have a guest."

"At this hour?" a middle aged man looked up in puzzlement.

"Yes Monsieur. He said he is here on a matter of protection."

Understanding dawned. "Please send him in."

The maid nodded. "This way Monsieur," she beckoned to the unseen visitor, giving him a curious look as he passed.

Jean Delacour stood to greet his guest, a pleasant smile adorning his weary face.

"Welcome to my home. You have had a long journey I take it? Camille," he called to the maid.

"Could you bring some refreshments." as she hurried off, he motioned the newcomer to sit.

"Thank you but I'd much rather stand." was the reply in lightly accented English. His visitor looked around the room taking in the layout. While he did so Jean took the opportunity to study him. The initial surprise of seeing how young he was had worn off and Jean now felt skeptical as he looked at the boy in front of him. The boy's look of childlike curiosity as he took in the sights of the spacious room did not help to bolster his opinion. As if he had sensed his thoughts, the eyes of his guest slowly fixed on him. For a long moment that boyish face studied him and Jean felt himself grow cold as the features shifted. Staring at him now was the look of a predator trying to gauge the strength of its prey; a killer analyzing his target, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And as quickly as it came, the features shifted back to that pleasant, slightly meek look. The boy then dipped his head.

"Delacour-san?" he asked a little shyly.

Jean nodded slightly wary. His guest continued, "My name is Inikaze Shiro, the shinobi that was picked for this mission." At Delacour's doubtful look, the boy laughed sheepishly. "You weren't expecting someone so young were you? I am capable enough for this task despite my age, or I wouldn't have been picked. For someone in your position you should know not to judge a book by its cover."

So saying, he took off the cloak that concealed his body and folded it over the proffered chair before clasping his hands behind his back.

"I assume you know what you've been hired for?" Jean asked while eying with mild interest the attire of his guest. The boy before him was dressed in a rather dull manner but compared to the decorative robes wizards wore, quite eye catching: His apparel was mostly black save for a green vest; Simple dark pants that did not quite reach his ankles, stopping instead several inches before. Bandages snaked their way from the rim of the sturdy open-toed sandals he wore to the tip of his pants, tightly covering every centimeter of visible skin. Was that their form of socks, Jean wondered. He could distinguish nothing of the shirt for it was hidden by the bulky vest. But judging from the long sleeves that covered his arms, it was of the same make as the pants. There was a curious red circle on either side of the shoulder sleeves, its inner design making it look like a swirl. Of the vest he couldn't discern much other than it was for protection and storage, though of what he was clueless. For neatly placed on each side of the chest were three long and narrow pouches. The same red swirl symbol was also integrated into the back. And covering his head was a dark cloth, the front of which a plate of metal was attached. Engraved upon the metal was a strange symbol shaped somewhat like a leaf.

"I do Delacour-san," the boy replied. "You've requested a shinobi to guard one of your daughters who is currently attending the Beauxbatons School of Magic. Why though?"

Delacour sighed and stood up, the eyes of his guest following him as he paced back and forth.

"Being a ministry official is not a pleasant job. Treachery and backstabbing is all too common behind the scenes. It is all the more worse since most of those in important positions are members of old families; those who follow the traditions from decades past, the pure bloods so to speak."

"And you have butted heads with these purists I assume." His guest spoke up, "I know you Jean Claude Delacour; High ranking Ministry official, close to becoming the Head Minister. Married to half Veela Appolline. Has two daughters both quarter Veela, Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour. I can only presume with such a marriage you are not popular with those bigoted purists. In fact I hear you are on particularly nasty terms with the Moreau family. Are your relations that bad with your enemies that you fear they will attempt to harm your family?"

Jean shot his guest a sharp look which was returned with a smile. "The Wizarding world does not know about us save a select few and even then, the number is minute. Those that do are bound by the threat of death to keep our existence secret. Just like you hide your existence from those you call Muggles, we hide our existence from you wizards. That does not mean we ignore you. Oh no, that would be foolish to leave a possible enemy unobserved. We have our infiltrators here. Tell me, what do you know of us?"

"I know that you are a group of assassins who for a fee accept a wide variety of tasks." His guest gave a slight hum and when he spoke again, his tone was amused.

"And you hired an assassin to guard your daughter. From what I read of your profile, idealism, honesty, and virtue, are the traits you adhere to. That you would hire a person who specializes in deceit and murder is surprising to me."

"And I am not pleased with it. I had and still have doubts, all the more so at seeing what I paid for. You look no older than my daughter Fleur."

"And yet I have experienced and done things that would make a normal person cringe. I made my first kill when I was seven. Yes Delacour-san," Shiro responded to his client's shocked look, "at seven I killed my first person. Gone was his boyish look, replaced instead with an icy gaze. His jawline constricted visibly as he relived the memory. The boy then laughed mirthlessly. "It was my first lesson on betrayal and how someone you trust implicitly can suddenly slide a knife into your back."

Silence again befell the room. Jean was at loss on what to say. To imagine this young man, no boy, in front of him was a trained killer and had killed at so young an age was sobering. And the words that accompanied that stony look of cool murderous intent. Jean swallowed uncomfortably. Just what kind of person had he hired? His guest for his part had recovered himself and stood watching him dispassionately awaiting his reaction. Fumbling in his mind to break the sober atmosphere, Jean was grateful as his maid after knocking, entered bearing a tray of pastries and some drinks.

"Thank you Camille." She gave a slight courtesy and left leaving the two occupants alone again. Eager for a change in subject Jean sat back down and indicated the tray.

"Won't you partake in these sweets? These vanilla flavored butter cookies are delicious."

Shiro eyed him with amusement and back was that deceptively passive look.

"After we have finished discussing the mission details, then I would be happy to try some of those delicacies. You haven't fully answered my first question, why the request for protection?"

"You are correct about there being bad blood between Moreau and I. Our families have a long history of mutual dislike and I fear that things will now come to a head."

"And why is that?" The dark brown eyes surveyed him keenly.

"The new Ministry election is about to begin. Abelard, our current head of the French Ministry of Magic is looking to retire. Moreau and I are the top voted candidates to replace

him."

Shiro briefly turned his face away to gaze thoughtfully at nothing in particular. "So you think Moreau will try something underhanded regarding the wellbeing of your family?"

"I am hesitant to think he would go so far but he is… not an honorable man. My daughter Fleur will be leaving France soon. There is an important event called the Triwizard Tournament. It is a competition between three great wizarding schools: The Beauxbatons, the Dumstrangs, and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The tournament will be hosted at Hogwarts. The school is situated in England."

"Ah, so that's why you requested protection for your daughter. You fear to leave her unwatched in a foreign country. This mission is marked as a high C rank. Still I cannot see much danger. I know of Hogwarts. Our spies have gathered quite a bit of detailed information on it. Your daughters would be under the protection of the British ministry and guests of one of the most protected schools in Europe. A ploy against your daughter while she is a guest at Hogwarts seems like a foolhardy attempt."

But that's on the outside, Shiro thought, an inside attempt would have a much higher chance particularly if it is someone you trust.

"Perhaps that is so," Delacour said. "But, I have already paid for this mission. I just pray my fears are unfounded."

A gentle look seeped into the eyes of his guest. "I might not seem capable to you Delacour-san but on my honor as a shinobi, I will do my utmost to protect your daughter."

"And what if events should prove more than you can handle?"

"Then back-up will be sent. It has already been prepared."

Jean noted the fondness that appeared on the boy's face. "People you know?"

"Yes," Shiro responded with a small smile, "A pair of close partners. Those lazy bums now work as gate guards or assistants to the Hokage." At Jean's enquiring look, Shiro clarified,

"The Hokage is our leader. He is the shadow that protects and commands us all."

"I still have doubts," Jean spoke carefully, eyeing his guest and trying to gauge what reaction his words would have. "A very good friend of mine recommended your kind. He insisted that I could find no better protection for my daughter than hiring a shinobi. I did not know anything about shinobi at the time but as he gave me an overview I was less than pleased to hear that he was recommending assassins. Were it not for the fact that I trusted him implicitly, I would not have dealt with you."

Shiro's face had grown slightly steely by the end of Jean's last sentence.

"I asked you before but now I will ask again. How much do you know of us?"

Seeing the killer surfacing in the face of his guest, Jean decided honesty was the best course of action. "I was mostly truthful before. You are assassins that accept a wide variety of missions. Despite being killers, you have a code of honor and morals that most killers for hire would not have. When accepting a contract you become loyal to a fault, doing the utmost to complete the mission. You have strong bonds with each other and those you protect and would not hesitate to give your lives for those you consider dear. That is all I know of your kind; though I find it highly doubtful to imagine mere killers with such emotions. My friend did not care to go any deeper than that."

To his relief, Shiro's face returned to its pleasant countenance. "That is more information than you should know Delacour-san. Tell me who this friend of yours is."

Jean hesitated, at which his guest chuckled. "If you fear him becoming a target, do not worry. To recommend us so, he must be well known to us." Shiro paused for a moment then glanced up with a smirk, "he is Armand Pouly correct?"

"How di-" Jean began.

"How did I know?" Shiro interrupted him, his face the perfect picture of innocence. "As I said before we have spies in your world. I read your file before I was sent here. After all, information is very important to us ninja." Shiro's eyes hardened slightly. "I trust when you signed the mission contract, you made the promise all wizards who know about us must make: To not reveal us on the pain of death and death to those you shared our existence with."

Jean nodded, his face slightly pale. "Yes. I made that promise."

Shiro hummed softly before finally sitting down. "That is good. Now may I try those tasty looking treats?"

That was the end of their meeting for the night. Already worn by the day's events and now thoroughly rattled with this encounter, Jean was eager to part ways with his disconcerting guest and collapse into bed where he could enter a state of blissful forgetfulness; if only for a short time. He showed the boy to his room, bid him goodnight and hurried off with the feeling of an amused look boring into his back.

Wizards, Shiro thought with some disdain. Softhearted pacifists! Can I fault them really? He wondered as he slowly paced around the spacious guest room. A high four-poster bed with richly embroidered coverings stood near the large window overlooking the Villa's Garden. Shiro pressed the bedding experimentally. It was soft; no doubt a pleasure to sleep in.

Shiro abandoned the bed and moved to the window where he could gaze out over the garden. The sky was cloudless and the moon shone brightly bathing the grass and flowers in silvery light. He was a young lad with short dark hair mostly hidden by his bandanna; a pleasant smooth face with high and slightly angular cheekbones and brownish eyes that often raked whoever they fell upon with a cynical gaze.

Ah, the difference of cultures he thought with a humorless smile. Life in the Elemental nations was bloody to say the least. The Shinobi Villages lived with war always looming on the horizon. Peace meant nothing. All knew it was just a farce; a courteous way for the conflicting sides to regroup and plan their next move without the pressure of battle. When one village sensed a weakness in another they would strike. Naturally such conflict gave birth to hardened shinobi. Kindness and mercy was rarely shown. Trained in arts of treachery, showing softness to such wily foes was folly and those that did very often paid with their lives.

As he gazed out the window his eyes slowly clouded over as he began to lose himself in the memories of his childhood. He had been born close to the end of the Third Great Ninja War. His parents were both shinobi from the Leaf Village. His mother due to her pregnancy was recalled from the frontlines. She was a tall woman with laughing eyes. He loved her dearly as any child would love its mother. His father he never knew. He saw him briefly when the war ended. A pale corpse with a stern face twisted in pain. His mother had sobbed bitterly as she embraced her dead husband.

Perhaps the sight did something to him. As a child, he possessed a seriousness rarely seen in children his age. Spurned by his mother's teachings and the stories she told about his father, he joined the Shinobi Academy at six. Mitero was unhappy with his decision. Having been a shinobi and suffered through war, she wished to keep her son away from such a life but Shiro was not to be dissuaded. With a heavy heart, she allowed him to join. It was a decision she would regret forever as one year after his entry, he vanished along with his entire class. She never saw him again.

Shiro relished his time at the Academy. Determined to be the best, he studied and trained diligently; ignoring the pursuits of children his age, he focused all his spare time to honing his skills. Mitero was unhappy and tried to urge her son to enjoy his childhood while he could but Shiro disregarded his mother's advice. At the year's end Shiro was the top in his class, having learned from his mother and the Academy both.

But fate did not have kind plans in store for him. A few days before graduation, his class instructor organized a survival exercise. Shiro's class was taken into the wilderness with a couple of other teachers for supervision. As they stood in neat rows awaiting the rules, masked foes burst from the trees. Shiro watched in shock as his instructor drove a blade through the heart of one of the accompanying teachers. The remaining teacher only had time to block a strike; a brief clang of metal upon metal and then he lay motionless in the dirt with blood pooling under him. The students were then quickly incapacitated. The ones that resisted were instantly killed.

They were taken to an unknown location; a facility hidden deep within a mountain face. There they were thrown into cells. The purpose of their abduction was revealed soon enough. A ghostly pale man with long black hair and reptilian eyes arrived to observe them. Shiro discovered soon enough that this was the Legendary Snake Sannin Orochimaru. The Sannin wanted nothing more than young lab rats to visit his experiments upon. One by one Shiro's classmates were taken away. The sounds that occasionally echoed throughout the base made him grit his teeth.

Surprisingly before that he was kept in comfortable captivity. Perhaps it was because he had impressed the Sannin. Shiro was young, but he was well trained and he put that to use. In a hopeless attempt at escape, he had killed two of the guards and eluded capture for several minutes. He was caught by Orochimaru himself. As he lay restrained by snakes, the Sanin bent down to study him and chuckled. "You show a strong will. Perhaps you will be more promising than your friends."

Yes he showed promise, promise for surviving the experiments Orochimaru had ordered inflicted on the other, now dead, captives. It was eight months of hell as the Sanin's favorite lab rat but he came forth with an artificial bloodline; the ability to manipulate and change the properties of blood.

Orochimaru was never around for long having other affairs to take care of. The Sannin left the experiments in charge of a thin sallow faced man only known as The Doctor. It was the Doctor who did most of the work. When the Sannin next visited he was delighted that his experiment had succeeded and ordered him trained. His former traitorous instructor took up the task. The man was surprisingly kind to him; like a father. Perhaps he felt regret for what he did but Shiro never forgot nor did he forgive. He would keep his head low for now and so for the next two years he played the game of deception and served the Snake Sanin. But he never forgot his origins nor his mother and resolved to seize the first opportunity to escape. But the Sannin was wary despite his seemingly steadfast loyalty and he was always under close guard but the opportunity came when the base was discovered by two squads of passing Leaf ninja.

The Leaf Ninja stormed the facility and during the fighting Shiro just like that moment three years ago, turned on his instructor and drove his blade through the man's body. His instructor slowly turned to face him. The man gave him a sad smile and leaned forward to place an arm around him.

"Always remember you are a person. Always keep room in your heart for clemency. In this harsh world of ninja it will remind you that you are still human. Never let go of your emotions as painful as it can be at times."

His old instructor collapsed. Shiro regarded the body for a moment then ran off. He surrendered to the Leaf shinobi and the facility was destroyed. The Sannin was nowhere to be found. He told his story but was regarded with suspicion; nevertheless they consented to bring him back with them under the condition that he was to be restrained with seals.

The Leaf Village was much like he remembered it. He was brought before the Third Hokage. The kindly old man had looked upon him sadly when Shiro enquired eagerly about his mother. Mitero had passed away a year after her son's abduction leaving a letter should he ever return. Shiro broke down. Those years he had spent as a captive seemed utterly meaningless. Blinded by tears he sobbed away as the Hokage held him tightly.

After recounting all the details of his time with Orochimaru, Shiro was given a choice. To either settle down as a civilian or rejoin the shinobi ranks, he choosed the latter. The life of a ninja was all he ever knew and would be good for. The Hokage tested him personally and declared him a Jounin but Shiro requested the rank of a Chunin. He just wanted a simple bleak existence. His artificial bloodline was to be kept secret. He was given his flak vest and put into the Shinobi Registry.

Despite wanting a simple life he soon came to be known as one of the best solo Chunin in the village. He completed all his missions spotlessly but with a cold unfeeling demeanor. Unknown to the rest he also completed A-rank missions assigned to him by the Hokage.

After all he had been through, Shiro's emotions had retreated into a hard shell deep within him. Worried about his state, the Hokage assigned him to a squad with two other Chunin who he had informed earlier of their new teammate's past, deeming the social contact as best for the young Chunin.

Kotetsu was a loud and brash individual who often favored the direct approach and was a prankster at heart. His friend Izumo was milder and serious. He was the brains of the duo. His team wouldn't have been bad if those two would just leave him alone! The duo made it their mission to drag him from his shell. The day Shiro flew at Kotetsu in fit of absolute fury after being subjected to one of his particularly disruptive pranks was when the duo deemed their mission complete. Granted they were now both thoroughly detested by their new squad member but that could easily be worked around. As time went by, Shiro couldn't help but form an attachment with the two and eventually they became his friends.

Shiro now 19 stood in the well-furnished guest room of the Delacour Villa. Alone and embraced comfortingly by the darkness, he broke the first rule of being a shinobi: Never show emotion. Ironically it was the first rule a shinobi always broke. A prime example as overwhelmed with the longing pangs of homesickness and painful memories, Shiro cried for his mother.


	2. Memories And Breakfast

Shiro's eyes flew open and his hand crept under the covers and closed over a kunai. He refrained from leaping out of bed but tensed in preparation. There were soft footsteps outside his room. Straining his ears, he listened to the footfalls. They were soft, the owner obviously taking care to be quiet but they moved with a steady purpose. Realizing it was most likely a servant of the house, Shiro forced himself to relax only to bolt out of bed at the sudden squawk that shattered the eerie stillness of his room.

The bird that had been sitting the window sill squawked once more then flew off. Pursing his lips with a wry expression, Shiro sheathed his blade and glanced at the wall clock. 4:00 am, still time to get a little more sleep; not that he'd be able to, he mused as he walked over to the window and opened it. He was a light sleeper when in unfamiliar places a trait all ninjas generally shared; the habit born from the constant threat of having your throat slit by an approaching foe while in deep slumber.

He stood staring out the window when a soft breeze moved to greet him. Shyly did it brush past, its fingers tentatively ruffling his hair. Enjoying the touch, he leaned out further catching the full gentle coolness. His eyes closed but it soon passed leaving him disappointed at the loss of contact.

For several minutes he stood there observing the moonlit grounds of the mansion, his ears soaking in all the sounds of the dewy morning. From the grass he could hear the morning songs of the insects as they trilled and chirped their joy at a fresh day. As if determined not to be outdone, the wall clock chimed in with its ticking. Tick tock, tick tock, it went, the seconds passing away and becoming minutes. Yet he still stood there bathing in the peacefulness of the early morning. Tick, tick, the clock went, dead set on getting him to move and finally he did, only to flop back into bed.

He lay motionless unable to sleep. Unbidden his thoughts turned to past deeds and memories. Shiro clenched his fists. This was the price a shinobi had to pay. To be haunted by your actions. Guilt was a cruel entity. It lurked just out of reach during the time he was focused but when his mind was free, it struck and struck hard. It was merciless; digging up memories he wished he could forget and bringing these to the forefront of his mind. But it also reminded him that he wasn't just a mindless tool of death. He still possessed a conscious.

Shiro sat up quickly as another memory showed itself. He couldn't take this anymore. He got out of bed breathing heavily and began to pace irregularly. Eventually he calmed enough to sit back down. The memories hit him again but he forced them away and sought out a particular memory that was the defining point of happiness in his life.

It was a boy he had adopted. Naruto Uzumaki, an outcast shunned for a burden he didn't know he carried.

It was a dark night when a fearsome demon known as the Nine-Tailed Fox appeared out of the darkness and attacked leaving death and destruction in its wake. Shiro could remember it very clearly. Who could ever forget that night. Thunderous footfalls were the first warning of its approach and even the stoutest of Leaf Ninja paled as they witnessed its advance. Bravely did the advance guard try to halt it but they were massacred to the last man and woman. The main force of Leaf Ninja then attacked led by the Third Hokage, also known as the God among Shinobi. They fought with the ferocity of a lioness defending her cub, caring little for their lives as the demon batted them aside. It was only with the arrival of the Minato the Fourth Hokage did they defeat the demon but it came at a great cost nor was it killed.

Being a massive being of pure chakra, the Nine-Tails was impossible to kill, but it could be sealed. And that is precisely what the Fourth did. He sealed it into his newborn son Naruto at the cost of his own life.

The Third Hokage reassumed his role after the Fourth's death and passed a law in the village that no one was to speak of the demon sealed within the child, hoping that Minato's dying wish that his son be seen as a hero be honored, but sadly the people who had lived through the devastation that the Nine-Tails brought forth were unable to do so. And though most obeyed Hiruzen's law, with those who didn't being severely punished, the children of the village also came to fear and dislike the boy simply because their parents did.

Thus Naruto came to live alone, shunned and ignored for a reason he didn't know. The fatherly visits from Hiruzen did not do much to fill the hole in his heart.

Shiro himself harbored no ill-will towards the child but he felt wary about approaching him. It was only a natural reaction considering the boy housed one of the strongest demons in existence. That changed as he observed the cold treatment Naruto had to endure. Following him home one night and observing him crying, Shiro decided to befriend him.

He intercepted Naruto the next day and purposely bumped into him. Naruto had promptly screamed a slew of insults to which Shiro brushed off and apologized profusely. Startled, the boy had regarded him warily for this was the first time someone had actually bothered to acknowledge him. Taking his purse, Shiro waved it tantalizingly and offered to treat him as an apology. That was the start of the bond that formed between those two. Overjoyed to find somebody that didn't shun him, Naruto had taken to seeking him out each day. The two would often be found together, Shiro treating him to meals and helping in the boy's ninja studies as Naruto had chosen that career with the goal of becoming Hokage, a fact he would proclaim nearly every day. One night, Shiro was awoken by soft knocking. Opening his door he found Naruto outside. The boy looked down shyly and asked if he could sleep with him. Shiro had chuckled softly and fetched an extra blanket. He fell asleep with Naruto snuggled against him. Soon afterwards he offered Naruto the opportunity to live with him. Shiro was promptly tackled with a flying hug and his vest was dampened with tears.

As expected the village residents did not react well to him having taken in Naruto. Shiro became a partial outcast, most of his friends distancing themselves. But there were a few that remained loyal. One was Iruka, a young academy instructor and fellow Chunin. He too had been wary of Naruto but in time regarded the boy with great fondness. His teammates and close friends Izumo and Kotetsu were another pair. They made Naruto their partner in crime, a fact Shiro would often sigh at whenever he found himself the victim of a prank.

It was with great surprise one day when the Hokage showed up on his doorstep. The Third had entered and after greeting Naruto with grandfatherly affection, asked to talk in private. He questioned as to why Shiro had befriended the boy and his eyes gleamed with pride as the Chunin explained himself. He did not say much but thereafter Shiro would occasionally find himself playing host to the most powerful man of the village. With the Hokage's visits, the hostile feelings directed towards them diminished quite a bit and the hope that Naruto would one day be accepted shined brighter.

Comforted by his reminiscence, Shiro lay back down and eventually drifted off. He soon awoke again. Checking the clock he saw it was nearly dawn. He got up and performed several stretches before commencing his daily exercises. He completed them and had just finished showering when a knock sounded on his door. It was Camille. The maid blushed furiously when he answered the summon in naught but a towel.

"M-Monsieur Delacour is about to begin breakfast. He would like you to join him if you have no objection," she stuttered out.

Shiro smiled pleasantly. "Thank you Camille. That is your name right?" at her nod he continued, "Please inform him I will be along shortly." As she backed away Shiro asked in afterthought, "He is in the dining room correct?"

"Yes." She replied but asked, "Do you know where it is? I can take you."

"No need," Shiro answered and his face adopted a slightly mischievous look. "I did some late night touring."

When she left, Shiro returned to the bedside and briefly regarded his equipment before strapping on his shuriken holster and a pouch into which he slipped several kunai. As he wrapped bandages around his shins, he considered wearing his flak jacket but decided that provided too armed an appearance for a casual breakfast. Speaking of which, his plain clothing was probably an eyesore considering what he observed so far of the French nobility standards. Not that he cared for their opinions; it was always fun to scandalize people. Now with the bandages fully secure he slipped into the open toed sandals all ninja wore and reached for his black gloves before deciding against it. Satisfied he left the room but not before slapping a piece of paper inlayed with several markings onto the door. A quick motion of his hand and it faded.

Camille was waiting outside the dining room when he appeared. She smiled as he approached but as she moved to open the doors her look became one of expectant interest. It instantly put him on guard. He reached for her hand stopping her from opening the doors. For a long moment he stood still ignoring her confused and embarrassed gaze while his brain rapidly cooked up various improbably scenarios. It was impossible that there was someone waiting to ambush him. Not impossible, just unlikely his mind whispered. But then what? Did his client prepare something to test his abilities? That seemed doubtful as well. But he had to decide quickly as the maid now looked inquiringly at him.

"Pardon me, are you all right?" She asked.

"Yes. Forgive me," Shiro answered releasing her hand and preparing to enter, fully expecting some form of attack but just then another thought was thrown to the front. "Tell me," he said to her, "is Mr. Delacour alone?"

Her face took a surprised look and with the slightest hesitation she answered that he wasn't; his wife Appoline was with him.

So that was it. He had read about the Veela race of course, semi-human beings of breathtaking beauty that exuded an aura of seduction which few were able to withstand.

If they lured men to them with this aura then the effects would be similar to Genjutsu, meaning he should be able to resist but this wasn't just a single attack which he could expel with ease. The effects would be constant if it was aura like. However this was all theoretically analysis. He frowned internally. He wasn't pleased at the prospect but chuckled softly at the paranoid ideas he had cooked up. Now that he knew exactly what to expect, they seemed almost absurd. So bracing himself mentally, he entered and was promptly struck dumb.

The blond woman sitting next to his client was absolutely breathtaking; even the most miniscule aspects of her, such as the way her hair curled around her shoulders and the slight tilt of her face as she looked up at him, added to her hypnotic charm. Shiro was dazed. It was like this creature was calling to him, beckoning him to come closer and he felt himself doing so. Try he might, but he found himself unable to break out. It was like struggling in a mire of thick sludge. With what still remained of his awareness he tried to force his hands into the sign of the Rat; The way of expelling illusionary effects but it was hopeless. His movements felt slow and heavy just like being trapped in a bog. Summoning every scrap of will he could scrape together, he forced his eyes shut. The effects lessened but the image of her burned its way into his mind's eye. This respite small as it was, allowed him collect himself and mercilessly drive out the foreign influence.

Finally having succeeded in regaining control of himself, Shiro opened his eyes. The brownish orbs frosty with irritation fixed themselves on Delacour's face. He wasn't free, he could still feel the allure beckoning to him but this time he was able to keep it at bay.

"You of all people should know the effect a Veela exudes Mr. Delacour-san." he said lightly. "A warning would have been nice unless this was some test of yours."

Jean stood to greet him, impressed that the boy had fought off the allure. He had indeed purposely arranged for the encounter being curious but seeing the boy gazing at him with irritation made him second guess his decision. Though his dear friend Armand had assured of the loyalty shinobi showed their clients, he had no wish to test it.

"It wasn't in order for me to do that," Jean apologized. "But you understand I was naturally curious to seeing your reaction to the allure. You will be guarding my daughter after all."

Shiro looked at him steadily then turned his gaze to the woman who was his client's wife. Surprisingly the allure was much weaker now. "So you can control your allure it seems." He remarked to her.

The woman rose gracefully and moved to greet him. "I do apologize as well," she said offering her hand. "You are correct. Veela can control to some extent how much allure they exude." She gave a motherly smile. "I am Appoline. I am grateful you accepted the task of protecting my daughter."

Shiro scoffed silently. Now without the allure clouding his mind, he could think normally. She was still ravishingly beautiful but she now lacked that hypnotic almost godlike image. "Mrs. Delacour, I prefer it if my clients are honest with their feelings than when they give false pleasantries." He studied her face closely. "The eyes reveal the most about a person's thoughts and feelings. I can see distaste and uncertainty in them."

Appoline was taken aback. The hand she had been proffering dropped. "I assure you that is not the case." She protested.

"Not the case?" Shiro repeated. He fixed her with an impassive gaze. "I have worn many masks Mrs. Delacour and I can tell when one is poorly worn. You resent me, and I know that is the truth. Regardless of what you think about me, you can be assured of my loyalty. And secondly I didn't accept, I was ordered."

He turned away and addressed Jean who sat looking very uncomfortable at the exchange. "I apologize. I hope we can continue this meal with grace and civility. May I sit here?" he asked.

"You may." Jean answered as his wife returned to her seat beside him. The meal proceeded in silence; the whole atmosphere one of awkward tension with neither party willing to speak. Shiro sat daintily picking his way through the foreign dishes, his mind busy conjuring up the possible dangers that could arise on his job while the Delacours sat side by side, unsure of what to say to the young shinobi. And so the only sounds were the scrapings and light clinks of silverware as the owners mutely poked away at the dishes.

"Tell me." Shiro spoke up suddenly. "When would you like me to depart for Beauxbatons?"

"Today," Jean replied. "I have arranged for an automobile driven by one of my servants. It will arrive around lunch time. I wish I could come with you and explain things personally to Fleur but that is sadly too arduous for someone with my responsibilities. There is another ministry meeting I have to attend to."

There was slight crunch as Shiro took a sizable bite out of a crisp roll. "So your daughter doesn't know then I take it?" he said after swallowing. Another bite and the roll disappeared.

"She doesn't and I fear she will not react well to this." Delacour paused as he thought over his next words. "She is… rather headstrong and not afraid to speak her mind and being of high birth, I fear you will find her hard to deal with."

Shiro bared his teeth slightly, Fleur's description not sitting well with him. Combined with the social standing of her family he summed it up in one sentence. "She's one of those snobby arrogant brats isn't she?"

Appoline looked up in surprise and Jean though slightly angered, laughed. "I see you are not shy about speaking your mind as well."

Shiro shrugged and tore into another roll. "I've had to provide protection for the children of important officials in my career and nearly all of them were stuck up weasels." He ground his teeth at some of the more unpleasant memories. "Ahh, behind my mask of humbleness, I took great pleasure in imagining punishing the little scoundrels." the last word being spat out with a venomous sneer.

"I assure you my daughter is more sophisticated than that."

Which would make it even worse, Shiro thought, but kept silent.

Well," he said. "I assume you will be giving me a letter to explain things to your daughter.

And of course a note to the Headmistress of Beauxbatons," he added after a pause. "I can't

very well show up without proof of my purpose."

"That has already been completed." Jean said smiling at the shinobi's surprised look.

"I see."

The meal was resumed in silence and then Jean stood up. "Please excuse me. I have work to attend to and shall return to my study. If you wish to discuss something I shall be there all morning."

Shiro stood and inclined his head until his client had left the room. He then returned to his meal; alone and in the company of his client's half Veela wife. Appoline contemplated him as he ate. "Was it true that you killed when you were seven years old?" she asked suddenly.

Shiro paused and then lay down his utensils. He looked up to face her. "Yes," he answered shortly. He watched somewhat interestedly as several emotions ranged across her face. People's faces were like an open book at times. Surprise, revulsion, pity…

"Did you have a choice at that moment?"

"No, I didn't," Shiro answered slightly tense; His first kill bringing him back to his time as a captive.

"Why did you choose this life? To be trained to kill at so young an age… It is simply barbaric. It's evil."

Shiro laughed humorlessly. "My home knows nothing but war. I choose to become a soldier for my village but then later when given the choice between a peaceful life or to continue on as an assassin, I realized that being an assassin was all I ever knew and all I would be good for."

"How can you say that?" Appoline questioned. "It doesn't matter if killing was the only skill you had. You could have learned others to apply in a peaceful trade."

"You know nothing about me or what I went through so don't make assumptions!" Shiro snapped suddenly. "You have the luxury of a peaceful life. I didn't! Nobody back home does. War is a constant shadow!" He regained control of himself and sighed before schooling his face back into a blank mask. "I apologize."

It was a defense she realized. That cold expressionless face was just a shield to hide behind. He was right. She knew nothing about him but it was clear he bore scars. Her motherly instincts rose and she longed to comfort the pained persona behind that mask. But she had driven him to the breaking point. Appoline feared to continue the subject. She would let him recover.

"I apologize as well. It is a mistake we all make; to condemn without the knowledge to condone our judgment."

Shiro looked up. "I ask myself at times whether I'm a good person and it's a question I have not been able to answer." He swiped the last few crumbs off his plate and stood up. "Excuse me." He left the room.

No one lay twitching on the floor outside his room when he arrived, which was a good thing for two reasons: First it meant nobody had been prying and secondly his client would not be pleased had one of the maids been shocked into a half conscious state by his trap. It wasn't the best idea he realized as he held his hand up to the door. Slowly the paper shimmered into existence. He pulled it off and entered.

Despite the obvious fact that nobody had set foot inside, Shiro went over his equipment with a critical eye. Satisfied that everything was the way he had left it, he slipped into his vest and began the process of arranging and equipping himself.

The conversation at breakfast had stirred up unpleasant feelings and all through the process of equipping himself, these feelings kept jabbing at his emotional core. Finally done, he collected himself and went to find his client.

Jean Delacour was seated behind his desk examining a stack of papers, when Shiro entered. Under the elderly man's gaze, the young shinobi glided in as noiseless as a cat. Grateful for the opportunity to take his mind of his work, Jean set down his papers. "What did you wish to discuss?" he inquired as Shiro came to stop in front of him.

"I wished for more information on my assignment, particularly on the possible foes. Who do you fear so much, that you would hire a shinobi when an escort of one of your own would suffice?"

"It's…" Jean paused, finding himself unable to give a valid reason. "A father's worry, I suppose," he said at last. "Pierre Moreau is the only one I would be very wary of. There is bad blood between our families but yet he hasn't done anything to suggest he is considering harm upon me. Perhaps I acted on emotion."

"A bad thing to act on," was the comment. "Acting solely on your feelings is a sure way to meet death in my world." Shiro glanced at the papers that lay on the desk. They were stamped with an official seal he recognized as the Ministry. "Tell me about the Moreaus. What caused the rift between you?"

Jean sighed. "Several years back I had suspicions that Perrie Moreau was engaged in the dark arts. I bided my time until I had proof then requested a warrant to raid his mansion. My suspicions were correct. In a hidden room was a sizable collection of tomes specializing in dark magic and various artifacts of the same nature. His influence saved him from a harsh sentence. He was demoted to a low position in the Ministry and had to pay a heavy fine. He has hated me ever since."

"Hmmm," Shiro hummed and glanced down at the papers once more. His eyes swiftly flew over the contents. The documents appeared to concern the rights of half-blood wizards and creatures. Jean noted his look but the young shinobi spoke again before he could comment.

"And now my information tells me that he is one of the top officials. In fact, of the two candidates selected to become the new Prime Minister, he is one of them. Tell me, how did he climb back up the ranks after that disgrace?"

Jean sniffed. "I am sure you can imagine. He is a cold, manipulative fellow; and he has strong ties with a number of old families that share his views."

"Has he or they threatened you in any way to give you the impression that your family might be in danger?"

"No, but I wouldn't put it past Moreau to seize any chance to inflict harm on my family or me. Actually I fear with the upcoming election, he might resort to underhanded methods to force me to relinquish my entry. Targeting my daughters would be an effectual method."

"Why are you running for Prime Minister then if it brings you such strain?"

Jean looked pointedly at the boy. "Your questions are becoming personal. I wish to keep it business-like."

Shiro dipped his head. "I apologize, Delacour-san."

The aged man gave a slight smile. "But I'll answer it nevertheless. I wish to make things better. If a man like Moreau gets into power, things will become harsh for certain individuals."

"By certain individuals, do you mean those of mixed blood?" With a gloved finger, Shiro tapped the papers on the desk. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but this appears to be legislation denying such citizens some rights." His eyes scanned the documents again. "Some basic rights it seems."

"You are correct. It is one of the matters to be discussed in the coming meeting today."

Jean sighed wearily. "I do not relish the prospect of crossing wands with him. It will not be passed of course, but the thought of battling it and reflecting his attacks tires me."

"So is he the only danger?"

"There are the other families of course but you can be sure if some attempt is made, Moreau will be behind it. You should know that he has two children. One who is his daughter, Annabelle, is attending Beauxbatons."

Shiro raised an eyebrow slightly at the news. "I assume there's conflict between that girl and your daughters."

"A true assumption. Annabelle has inherited her father's ideals and as such, views my daughters with the same enmity he shows me. She and Fleur often clash."

Shiro scoffed and gave a slow eager smile that made Jean temporarily stiffen. "She's only a brat after all. If it comes to the point where I need to step in, you can be sure that will be the last time this girl will dare to attack your daughter. I won't hurt her," he added at Jean's apprehensive look. "I've learned some techniques from our Interrogation Division which I could apply with great success."

"I'll leave you to decide your judgment," Jean said slowly, "but keep in mind that if you do anything drastic, her father might turn his attention to you."

Shiro tilted his head to face to him, his eyes half closed. "As you said yourself, leave your daughter's safety to me and focus on your problems. I'll handle things discreetly." He shifted slightly before turning towards the door. "That seems to be all for now. Thank you for indulging me."

"What will you doing now until your transport arrives?" Jean inquired.

"That Delacour-san is a rather personal question." Shiro gave him a cheeky smile and exited as silently as he had come in, leaving the elderly man to chuckle and return to his papers.


	3. Arrival

He could hear it long before it arrived; the automobile Jean Delacour had arranged for him. Its engine revving as it strained up the steep road. Shiro watched the noisy contraption distastefully as it rumbled to a halt in front of the mansion gates. His client soon made his appearance.

"How long?" he asked the French Ministry official. "How long will the journey take?" he repeated at the man's questioning look.

"Several days at least," Jean answered him. "But unless you encounter any difficulties, it should not take a week."

Shiro hummed softly in reply. That particular response Jean noted seemed to occur whenever he was in thought or felt a verbal answer was unnecessary.

"Can you tell me anything about Beauxbatons Delacour-san?"

"Only what is generally known. Beauxbatons was built several hundred years ago in the Pyrenees, a large range of mountains in southern France. It is a prestigious school and only the wealthy and noble attend it."

"So in other words, it's a school of spoiled rich brats."

Jean laughed at the boy's disdainful expression. "You will find them very courteous and graceful. I do not know what you experienced in your homeland but here in France, polite conduct is heavily stressed among the aristocratic class. To sneer down on those of lesser standings is frowned on. One must always be as gentlemanly as possible in all interactions. Of course there are some families who believe themselves to be far superior," Jean amended as a skeptical look was directed his way. "These I believe would fall into your category of arrogant brats. Regardless," he continued, "you will not have to stay long as the time for the tournament is near."

"That is comforting to hear." Shiro said pushing himself off the gate bars. He stretched himself tautly, groaning in slight pain as the tension in his body accumulated. Then relaxing his muscles, he sighed heavily in relief as the stress dissipated leaving his body feeling like rubber. "Well," he said cheerily, spreading his arms and doing a slow turnabout, "How do I look?"

"Well equipped, very professional." Jean answered amusedly. He studied the young shinobi more carefully. It struck him as he took in the details that he had no idea how these people fought. The boy was dressed as he was when he had first arrived except for some minor additions; He now had two belts around him. One was positioned around his stomach, acting as a hold for a short blade attached behind him. The other was placed in the normal position around the hips and from this hung an odd assortment of holsters and pouches.

Jean saw that the boy still had his hands covered in dark gloves. A sheet of metal of the same make as that attached to the bandanna he wore, minus the leaf shaped symbol, provided protection for the knuckles. As Shiro shifted his arms Jean detected four small holes in the metal plating. These holes were intricately drilled into the space just between each knuckle. Curious he questioned their purpose and a slight shudder rippled through him as Shiro reached into a pouch and with lot of rattling brought out a short metal spike which he screwed into one of the holes.

The elderly man could very well imagine how those spikes were used. But what puzzled him was that all he had seen so far suggested that shinobi killed their victims with muggle devices. He knew these shinobi were not wizards, but if they fought likes muggles, just how could they defend themselves against magic?

So many thoughts and worries plagued him. Ah if only he had never joined the French Ministry of Magic. Truly being in a position of authority was a curse; and now with the upcoming meeting on who to elect as the new Head Minister.

He and Pierre Moreau were the two candidates. The thought of being in proximity with that man caused a fresh set of worry to cascade over him. He started slightly as a hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked up into the pleasant countenance of Shiro. The boy was smiling gently, almost with understanding and sympathy. It was strange to see such emotions on the face on that usually impassive face.

"Do try not to worry too much Delacour-san," Shiro said, his words soft and soothing, "Your daughter will be safe, on my honor as a shinobi. And so will you."

"What do you mean by that?" Jean asked confused. The boy didn't reply. Instead he slipped into his dark cloak and with a parting nod entered the automobile. The vehicle started off, leaving Jean to ponder on those last words.

Perhaps it would have been better not to have said anything, Shiro thought as they drove along. Ninja operated best in total darkness but it couldn't be helped now and maybe circumstances would eventually reveal his hidden help. That was is if this Moreau fellow was as sinister as he was told. But that wasn't his concern now. His concern would be the daughter of this French official, Fleur Delacour. He patted his cloak, feeling the vest that was underneath just to reassure himself the letters for both Fleur and the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Madam Maxime, were still safe.

They had not driven long when an old tramp stepped into their path and hailed them. The tramp was at least in his sixties, with grimy, unkempt hair that hung down like dirty weeds. His clothes were worn and patched in several places. The man seemed half crazed and couldn't speak a word of French; his English wasn't much better but he was able to make it clear his reason for accosting them. The driver sputtered fiercely at taking this grubby character with them but Shiro overrode his objections. With muttered words in French the man turned back to the wheel as the tramp climbed into the car.

At the day's end they stopped at a roadside inn. Once night had fallen and everyone was asleep, Shiro crept out. He gave the innkeeper a friendly nod as he passed and then stepped into the night. The moon was covered by grey clouds but still rays of silver light managed to bore through the fluffy mass. Looking around him to make sure nobody was near, Shiro tensed then leaped straight up to the inn's rooftop. There he settled himself gazing down at the ground below.

A slight thump sounded behind him and the figure of the tramp loomed up like a dark apparition. Shiro smiled, "Hello Kotetsu," He said in his native tongue as the man exploded into a plume of smoke. When it dissipated there stood quite a different character. A man in his late twenties with long black spiky hair, a single strip of bandage that ran across the bridge of his nose and the Leaf symbol emblazoned on the metal attached to his cloth band. His attire was a mirror of Shiro's.

Ah," the previously disguised shinobi groaned. "Keeping up that form all day was a real strain."

"Don't relax too much, we still have a couple more days ahead of us."

A weary groan was the answer. Shiro laughed heartily and turned his gaze to the quiet landscape. He still missed his village but having a friend with him helped to ease the aching strings in his heart.

"I miss Izumo." His friend whined out. "Was it really needed to have him stay behind?"

"We need someone to watch over our client and report the proceedings to us." Shiro answered. He turned to gaze over the countryside. "Also he can investigate this unknown Dark group that has been causing disturbances. If Pierre Moreau is connected, well, that is all the more reason for Izumo to stay behind. You know him. This kind of task suits him perfectly."

"You're worried about our client."

Shiro smiled thinly. "I don't want anything to happen to our client, he is our paycheck after all. I've also come to like him. He's a good person, unlike us."

"That depends on your definition of good." Kotetsu said somberly but he couldn't help adding with dry humor, "but yes, he's no murderer."

The two shinobi shared a laugh at that.

Kotetsu looked at his friend feeling unsure how to approach the next subject. It was a sore point with his teammate and he had no wish to cause a confrontation.

"Shiro?"

"Hmm?"

"How do you plan to go about with your second assignment?"

Apart from some slight tensing of his shoulders, Shiro remained unperturbed. "For the moment that is Izumo's job. The only leads we have are the disappearances and the group of blood purists that has recently sprung up. Izumo will be investigating this in Paris while keeping an eye on Delacour."

"Our client said that we will be going to England didn't he? You said that is another place of unusual disappearances."

"I did and I suppose I will have to look into that when I have the opportunity."

"What if it is really connected to Orochimaru?"

There was silence for several moments. "In that case we report it to the Hokage and the shinobi we have stationed in the Magical world will take care of it. This is simply a secondary task that takes no real precedence over my primary objective. It is not my problem."

"Really? Because I feel the reason you had Izumo stay behind was more to determine if Orochimaru is really involved than concern for the client."

"Perhaps subconsciously. You can't deny that having our client killed would be unbeneficial to the mission. Jean told me a little bit about their history and now with those two has prime candidates for the election; I am expecting Moreau to try something underhanded and if he does, I gave Izumo instructions to act as he sees fit." Shiro smiled as he added: "Who knows, the news might even report how Moreau was found in his bed with his throat cut."

They fell silent basking in the peacefulness of the night and each other's presence. Eventually it was with a yawn when Shiro clapped his companion on the shoulder. "I'm going to bed and you should too. You'll want to rest and recover your chakra for tomorrow."

Kotetsu turned away grumbling at the prospect. Shiro watched him go then turned his gaze to the sky one last time before creeping back to his room. The two shinobi were both up before morning broke, Kotetsu back in his guise of the old tramp. They had a meal and sat awaiting the driver who appeared two hours later surprised at seeing them ready. After he had eaten they were off again.

The next three days proceeded as the first. They would spend each night at an inn or continue on till the next town if there were no lodgings nearby. At each stop Shiro and Kotetsu would meet in private for short conversations, the latter mostly complaining about the strain of holding his transformation technique and it was with great relief to him when they arrived at their destination. At least until Shiro reminded him with glee that he would be camping in the wilds outside the school.

"I'm beginning to think your whole plan of keeping our presence secret is more to torment us than surprise our possible foes with a hidden kunai." Kotetsu muttered to him before tottering off after mumbling his thanks in Pidgin English for the lift.

Shiro waved at him in farewell before following the driver through the town. The man headed outwards to the foot of the mountain range. There they took a path upwards towards the green peaks. Seeing the trees surrounding them on all sides filled him with energy. The urge to jump onto a branch and leap from tree to tree was immense. It wasn't home, but it felt like it. Focusing his senses he could detect Kotetsu's chakra signature as he followed them.

"Tell me," Shiro said to the driver as they crossed a narrow bridge over a gorge. The man-made object presented a lonely appearance so far from civilization with nothing but nature all around. "How far up is Beauxbatons?"

"Another hour or two perhaps."

"I am curious, where exactly is Beauxbatons located?"

The driver perked up, eager to flaunt his knowledge. "Near the peaks of this range; far up, the land is mostly flat with rolling hills. Forests and streams are plenty and in the middle of this is Beauxbatons. It was founded here hundreds of years back, to keep hidden from muggle eyes. The Academy is a testimony to how we French value beauty in all things."

"What kind of enchantments does Beauxbatons have to remain undetected? For surely people make their way into these mountains. It is a lovely place." Shiro halted for a moment to look at his surroundings. A gentle wind was rustling the foliage and birds were chirping. Suddenly, something snapped and a flock of birds, beating their wings noisily, scampered into the sky.

The driver jerked towards the sound, his hand straying to his coat pocket. Shiro tensed as well and expanded his senses. An annoyed expression crossed his face which he quickly masked. "Are there any dangerous animals in these mountains?" he inquired of his companion who was still looking about warily.

"No," the man responded hesitantly. "Well, yes there are but not in this location. That sound startled me for a moment."

They proceeded again but not before Shiro cast a warning look in the direction of the snap.

Perhaps he was imagining it, but he felt a teasing grin directed back at him.

"Beauxbatons has many wards placed all around," the man continued after they were on their way again. These wards induce a sense of boredom and misdirection. Any muggle who might make his way this far up would feel disinclined to continue and turn back."

"Have the wards ever failed?"

"Never. But as an extra precaution, Beauxbatons is also invisible to any non-magic user."

"Is there another way up? I can't imagine students or teachers for the matter of fact climbing all this distance."

"Of course there is. But I have been instructed to take you there by normal means. It doesn't mean this path isn't used though. Sometimes students are taken for outdoor lessons in nature."

"So what is this other path?"

"In the basement of a hotel back in the town which is affiliated with us, there is a portkey chamber. You simply stand on the magical runes and it will transport you to Beauxbatons. But the Academy must be notified in advance or the runes will be locked."

At last after two hours they arrived on relatively level ground. Despite being a shinobi, hiking up a mountain for two hours was straining on his legs. Now the way ahead was shrouded in a dense forest. Seeing the tall thick trees filled him with nostalgia until he stepped into its leafy screen. It was silent, so devoid of sound that malaise swept through him, plucking his every nerve and stretching them taut as a bowstring. As he stepped further in, a curious sensation rippled through him causing him to freeze in his tracks.

His French escort stopped as well seeing the rigid expression that crossed his face. "Are you alright Monsieur?"

Shiro blinked and glanced around. The feeling that had coursed through him was gone. "Did you feel anything just now?"

The Frenchman looked puzzled and shook his head. "No, I cannot say I have. What did you feel? You looked very fraught just then."

"I cannot describe it. It was an unusual feeling, light and feathery that swept through me."

"I felt no such thing but if I were to venture a guess, I would say that it was the magical shield that surrounds Beauxbatons; it's amazing that you were able to sense it."

Shiro glanced at him keenly before moving forward. "A shield you say?" Idly he registered that the forest was now alive with the sound of animals.

"Of course," the Frenchman responded. "We have wards and enchantments in place to repel muggles but now consider magical threats. Naturally we have defenses against such sources. Beauxbatons has many layers of wards to protect itself against the harmful magical creatures that lurk in many parts of these mountains."

Shiro filed the information away with interest. Curious, he inquired further. "How close are these creatures situated in proximity to the school?"

"Not close at all," the Frenchman assured him. "It's just that sometimes a stray wanders too close. But that is rare."

When they finally came out of the forest, Shiro could see Beauxbatons in all its glory. Set against the backdrops of mountain peaks that towered over like watchful guardians, a smooth river flowed around the Academy until it dropped off a steep precipice. The grass was unnaturally green and a magnificent garden stretched all the way to the Academy grounds; highlighted by the sun's rays, it sparkled in a myriad of colors.

"Beautiful is it not Monsieur?" The Frenchman said grinning at him.

Shiro nodded approvingly. "It does look lovely, peaceful even, but, too crowded." He was referring to the large body of students that were milling about in various tasks. At this distance in their uniforms, they resembled a moving sea of blue ants.

"Naturally," was the reply. "Beauxbatons has hundreds of students. Come, I will take you to the headmistress and there I shall leave you. I trust you will fulfill Monsieur Delacour's expectations."

The Frenchman led him down the slope away from the tree-line and after several more minutes they stood inside the grounds. Shiro tensed as curious looks were cast his way. He noted with mild curiosity that the female population was a majority compared to the males. He followed his escort, who strutted ahead like a peacock, into the Academy where they accosted a woman who gave directions in French. His guide beckoned him to follow and as they walked, Shiro couldn't help shaking his head at the lavishness of the interior architecture. His inner musings were stopped short as his guide stopped in front of a door and knocked. A voice sounded from within, obviously biding them to enter.

Shiro blinked as the tallest woman he had ever seen rose from her chair to greet them. Dressed in a simple dark satin that contrasted oddly with the elegance he had come to expect in this place, she towered over him by a good many inches. Even his companion was taken aback.

His companion after showing his respect began to converse in French. Shiro stood idly by while sharply examining the room. He was briefly interrupted as the Frenchman held out his hand, "The letter Monsieur."

"Ah, of course." Quickly he pulled it from his vest and into the waiting hand. The tall woman, who he assumed to be the Headmistress, slowly read the contents. When she was done, her eyes turned to fix him, studying him with a cold analytic look. Shiro returned it challengingly.

She turned to his guide and said a few words. The man bowed and turned to him.

"I have done as Monsieur Delacour has asked. Now that my presence is not needed I will take my leave."

Shiro briefly averted his gaze to dip his head courteously as the Frenchman began to back away.

"Thank you for your assistance, do let him know that I've arrived safely." The door closed softly leaving him alone with the Headmistress


	4. A Volatile Meeting

"You are surprisingly young for such a task," Maxime stated. Her coal black eyes raked his form. "Either you are exceptionally skilled or Delacour has very poor judgment. I am inclined to think the former."

The young ninja stood silent, giving only a slight tilt of his head.

"I must say it is astonishing for a child like you to have already become an Auror." Maxime continued. His eyes widened slightly in bewilderment. Auror? The brown orbs flicked to the letter that now lay on the desk. "It speaks well of your training. Which school has seen fit to produce talented individuals like you?"

His mouth curled upwards a notch. Her exaggerated flattery struck him with amusement at its sugary simplicity. It was an approach he might have used on a fat overly haughty lord but not on a shinobi who by training was as adroit as the shrewdest of court officials. Or perhaps she meant it genuinely and he was just overly suspicious.

"Madame, you're only basing my skill on the assumption that Delacour isn't a senile old man." Shiro smiled. "As he has still retained his wits when I last parted with him, your assumption could very well be true but you must forgive me for choosing to withhold where I was trained. My… school is highly secluded by policy. It is rare for us to interact with the rest of the wizarding community."

The Headmistress nodded. "That is not uncommon. There are many schools I know of that remain sequestered. But how did Delacour come across you?"

"A close acquaintance of his suggested our services. Though doubtful, he decided to follow it up."

"And you are here."

Shiro shrugged. "I understand that your Academy will be participating in a Wizarding Tournament. How long will it be till you leave for the event?

"A month."

A month, Shiro thought morosely. Hogwarts would be a year and then add the month spent here. The days seemed so numerous that his heart sank. He recovered himself quickly.

As he remained silent, Maxime choose to speak. "Delacour has asked me to assist you and I will abide his wish but know this: There is something about you that I don't like. For as long as you remain I will be watching."

Shiro smiled pleasantly unperturbed by the mild threat. "That is clever of you. Wary people tend to live longer."

Maxime cast him a look but made no comment. "If you will follow me, I shall take you to Miss Delacour."

"If you don't mind," Shiro said halting her. "I would prefer it if you might bring Miss Delacour here. I do not wish yet to announce my presence to the whole of the academy."

"The students will find out in time. I must give an announcement as why there is a new face amongst us."

"I realize that but I wish to delay it for now."

Maxime nodded, "As you wish." The door clinked shut as her tall frame exited.

After the sounds of her heavy footfalls faded away, Shiro glided over to the table and picked up the letter.

_My Dear Madame Maxime,_

_Things are growing heated in the Ministry and I am beginning to fear that my rival and enemy Pierre Moreau might try something. Perhaps I am just an old man that is overly concerned but I cannot rest until I know that my daughters are safe. I do not doubt the security Beauxbatons provides but I fear when Fleur leaves for the Tri-Wizard tournament. It is for that reason I have hired a bodyguard. _

_His age might surprise you greatly but he is a registered Auror and has been sent to me with high recommendations by the institution I had contacted for such a service. I trust you will accommodate Mr. Inikaze and assist him with whatever he may require._

_My best wishes,_

_Jean Claude Delacour_

Pleased to find that his client had not given anything away, Shiro carefully placed the letter back as it was. With nothing to do and left on his own, he made a quick tour of the study that ended at the large window overlooking the waterfall. He sighed softly as he leaned against the sill and gazed out.

One whole year away from home, he thought dismally; starting in a month when the Beauxbaton's delegation leaves for Hogwarts. "Naruto," he said softly.

"Ne, Shiro-Niisan?"

"Hmmm?" Shiro looked up where he was hunched over, drawing the seal that would transform this currently ordinary piece of paper into a deadly explosive that could turn a ninja into red paste. Ironically he had a bowl of red bean paste next to him. He lay down his tools at seeing the distressed look on his adopted charge. "What's wrong Naruto?" he quickly got up. "Is it the villagers again?"

"I failed the Academy test."

Ah, so that was it, Shiro thought with relief. Iruka certainly was stickler for the rules. Still he had to agree with him. To put it bluntly, Naruto was just terrible at his studies. And in combat he was an absolute moron. If Iruka had seen fit to graduate him at this stage, Shiro would have had a thing to say.

"I must agree with Iruka, Naruto," he said ruffling the blond hair. "You're not at the stage where you can be called a ninja."

"Bu-"

"No buts," Shiro cut him off firmly. The boy fell silent. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Shiro led him over to the table and placed the bowl of bean paste in front of him. Naruto's downcast expression quickly melted as he voraciously attacked the sweet dish.

Shiro reassumed his seat opposite. How could he get Naruto to take his studies seriously, he wondered morosely. Certainly he helped when he could, but, missions often drained the time he could spend with the boy. "Naruto," he said at last. The bright face looked up with bulging cheeks. A bit of paste dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Shiro grimaced. "What did I teach you about table manners?" he asked.

"Sorry, Nissan." After seeing that he wiped his mouth and ate at a more sedate pace, Shiro continued, "What is taught in the Academy is taught for a reason. You'll never be Hokage if you insist on continuing as the fool. Iruka told me how many times you've fallen asleep in class. And the times you're not sleeping is spent skipping class. The villagers would laugh if you became Hokage."

"No they won't!" Naruto burst out. "They will respect me because the Hokage is the strongest."

Shiro snorted. "If being strong is the sole requirement for becoming Hokage then this whole village would be brought to rubble by every bone-headed fool whose got an ounce of strength. No, strength is but half of what being a Hokage means." He paused suddenly and eyed the face across him. "Do you know what the role of the Hokage is?"

"Umm, being the strongest in the village?" Naruto answered hesitantly. The way Shiro was looking at him made him second guess his answer.

Shiro shook his head wearily. "All these times I've had to listen to you spout about being Hokage and you don't even know the aspects to that position. You just desire to be Hokage so the villagers acknowledge you, isn't that it? I understand your feelings Naruto," he said gently as the boy looked down. "You already have some people who acknowledge you, give it time and more will follow. Being Hokage for that reason alone is selfish. Do you love this village?"

"Yes." Naruto said without question.

"Do you want to see it destroyed? See everybody in it killed?"

"No!" was the horrified response.

"If enemy ninja attacked with the intention of destroying your home, would you fight to defend it?"

"Yes! I'll beat anybody who tries to destroy my home!"

"That, Naruto, is another aspect of being Hokage. The Hokage is the strongest ninja in the village and the wisest. It is his role to protect and care for every single person in the village. To rule over them and shield them from harm. Strength is required to protect, intelligence –of which you are sorely lacking- is needed to rule, because every decision you now make, will affect a life."

He had certainly captured Naruto's attention. The boy had abandoned his food and was leaning forward, eagerly grasping onto every word. Would it be cruel of me to use myself as an example? He wondered.

"One part of the job is assigning ninja their missions. But that means if you don't have the proper knowledge, you could be sending them to their deaths. Imagine you assign me an assassination mission in the Land of Mist, my jutsu strength is Fire and theirs is Water. Water beats Fire but because you failed to pay attention in class to the strengths and weakness of Jutsu's, I could very well be outmatched and killed."

It's never as simple as that and perhaps that was a bit far, Shiro thought as Naruto's eyes widened in shock. A second later the boy flew from his seat and tackled him in a tight hug. "I'd never send my Nissan to die!" Naruto cried out tearfully while squeezing him tighter.

Ah the innocence of a child. Despite the pressure, Shiro fondly wrapped his arms around the sniffling form. "I will pay attention to Iruka-Sensei now," The boy promised. "I won't skip class and I will learn everything he teaches."

Shiro laughed. "Don't make promises you can't keep," he warned lightly. Naruto looked at him indignantly.

"I always keep my promises. Believe it!"

"I know you will Naruto. You'll become a great Hokage if you keep this determination. Now finish that bean-paste and we'll head out for some ramen."

"Yatta!" Naruto cheered wildly. He dived back into the dish and Shiro didn't have the heart to scold him on his manners. "Come on Nissan," Naruto cried as he rushed out the door. He had already disappeared by the time Shiro made his way outside. There was no cause for worry, he would find him happily slurping down noodles at his favorite stand. Ichiraku Ramen. As he locked the door, a young ninja approached him.

"The Hokage wishes to speak with you later this evening." The ninja said.

Shiro thanked him for the message but a frown creased his brow. What did the Hokage want?

"Mr. Inikaze, Mr. Inikaze," Maxime's voice pulled him back to reality. He cursed silently. How could he have been so lax? He turned to see Maxime in the center of the room. The sight of which caused him to berate himself again. He did not even hear the door open but his reproaches stopped dead at the sight of the girl who stood beside the Headmistress.

Her cerulean eyes were watching him curiously. Long luscious blond hair fell gracefully to her shoulders where some strands formed tantalizing wispy curls. Her face was perfect, not a flaw to be seen. It was like a sculpture. Every aspect of her was alluring.

Shiro tore his eyes away with the greatest reluctance. It was the same hypnotic feeling he had experienced from her mother but to a lesser extent. When he faced her again, there was a slight knowing smile on her face. Against his will, his face reddened in embarrassment.

The Headmistress also seemed amused. She swept a hand towards the girl.

"This is Fleur Delacour as you no doubt have already guessed."

The girl smiled charmingly but her eyes held worry. "Maxime told me that you are here on behalf of my father. What is wrong? Is he alright?"

"He is perfectly fine Miss Delacour," Shiro answered having mostly regained control over himself. "The matter concerns you actually. This letter from your father will explain things better than I."

Her slim fingers took the envelope as he held it out, turning his head as he did so. She spared him another curious glance before focusing her attention on the parchment. While she read, Shiro busied himself on studying the room's architecture. Not that he cared about it; it was just a reason to focus his attention on something other than the girl. She rattled his emotions like no other before. A polite collected individual who fulfilled his clients demands, all the while portraying a smiling face. That was his professional mask and this girl had thrown it into disarray.

Shiro shook his head almost amused. He reached up to touch his cheek. The heat was gone and so he hoped, was his blush. That girl had made him feel like a boy asking out his crush.

"How dare he!" The sudden harsh cry split the silence. Calmed by his prior contemplations, Shiro swung his head and regarded the object of his task impassively.

She was alternating between casting him incredulous glances and glowering at the letter. Yes indeed, it seemed his client's prediction was correct. She did not take pleasantly to the news.

"You?" Fleur demanded as she finished the letter. "My father hired a boy to protect me?"

"Your father," Shiro said hoping to placate her, "is merely acting on his desire to see you safe."

"I do not need to be guarded like some precious gem!" Fleur snarled. "I am competent enough to protect myself. And to think he choose you, someone who looks like he should still be attending school."

"I am capable enough Miss Delacour."

"Oh," Fleur said in a mocking tone. "So you are capable and I'm not. I'm just the defenseless princess am I?"

"I did not imply tha-"

Shiro's sentence was cut off as Fleur turned around and marched out the door. It swung shut with a heavy bang.

For several moments silence pervaded the study. Shiro stuffed his hands into his pockets and gazed at the ceiling on which a handsome chandelier hung. "That," he intoned drily, "went very well."

There was an unladylike snort from Maxime. "I apologize for her actions. It shames me that she acted so discourteously."

"Yes…" Was the reply from the young shinobi. "Aren't French nobility taught to behave in all situations with utter grace and tranquility?" the last part accompanied by two fingers punctuating the air. "I can see Mr. Delacour described it spot on."

The tall woman chuckled. "Anger clouds the mind. I shall speak to Miss Delacour about her conduct later, but, for now please feel free to explore Beauxbatons. I will inform my staff about you and one shall bring you to the feast hall when it is time for dinner."

Shiro hummed softly. "No need to lecture the young lady," he said at last. "Anger clouds the mind, she will cool down in time."

"You may not mind, but I do. It was shamefully rude for a lady of her standing."

"She's still young," Shiro observed.

"A very beautiful young lady is she not?"

He cast a questioning look at the tall woman only to see her smiling teasingly. He turned away.

"About the feast, is there a place I can eat in private?"

"If you so desire, the food can be brought to your room."

Shiro nodded gratefully. "Thank you." He exhaled heavily. "I think I will pass the time in the gardens. It's beautiful there, and peaceful."

He gave a short bow then left and made his way outside, deftly avoiding the students, and found a secluded spot amongst a hedge of sweet smelling bushes. There he made himself comfortable and reflected on his meeting with Fleur. The girl obviously was proud and determined to prove herself if her volatile reaction to him was any indication. Despite the rather explosive encounter, he found himself looking forward to the days ahead. Just how would it go? He lay down on the grass, absorbing all the sounds that floated around his secluded haven. Several times some students wandered nearby but never close. Eventually his eyes closed and he drifted off into a light slight slumber.


	5. An Eventful Night

Night had fallen. Hidden in the forest some distance away from Beauxbatons, a fire crackled merrily amidst a partial enclosure of brambles. A pot bubbled over the flames sending forth a delicious aroma that curled away into the dark mass of trees, while the carcasses of several birds lay roasting on the sides.

Kotestu was just ladling out a portion of the stew into his bowl when a figure landed in front of him.

"There you are," Shiro said. The young shinobi approached the fire then bent down and sniffed the bubbling stew. "I think your cooking might be edible for once." He said with a smile.

Kotetsu grumbled. "When are you going to let me forget that one time I gave you food poisoning?"

"It wasn't just me," Shiro retorted. "I remember Izumo stretched out like a futon after tasting… whatever that brown glob was." His eyes twinkled. "I also recall you clutching your belly and swearing never to experiment again."

Visibly ruffled, Kotetsu turned away from the grinning features of his friend and fetched another bowl which he filled from the pot over the fire. He handed it over along with a spoon.

Shiro took it and settled himself against a log. The aroma was deceiving after all. The stew was rather bland; containing an odd mixture of various plants and meat, but it was thick and the ingredients plentiful.

He had taken several bites when Kotetsu inquired about the events of the day.

"I suppose things went as well as they could." Shiro said slowly after swallowing his mouthful. Unsatisfied, Kotetsu kept peering at him, silently commanding him to continue.

Shiro chuckled at the inquisitive expression. "Everything has been more or less settled. The Headmistress accepted my presence but she has her reservations. Our client's daughter; She stormed off as soon as she learned my purpose." Shiro took another bite. "A volatile girl I must say. The kind who will make sure I know I'm unwelcome."

Shiro set down his bowl and leaned back. His eyes slowly closed. "Tomorrow I'll officially begin my duty, but for now, I want you to come back to the Academy with me."

"For what reason?"

"To explain your presence to the Headmistress. I've been thinking on how we'd be able to get you to Hogwarts while keeping your presence a secret but I'm afraid we'll need her assistance."

"Why do I feel like I will need to Henge again?" Kotetsu grumbled much to the amusement of his friend.

"You probably will. Wizards have to drink a complicated potion to change their appearance and even then, they revert back after a short period. It's amazing how our technique allows us to walk among them unknown. These wizards are not to be laughed at though," Shiro continued thoughtfully. His eyes were still closed. "In combat, we are far superior. Our speed and jutsus outclass them, but, never scorn your foe. Even the weakest can deliver an unexpected blow. All it needs is one hit from their spells and you can be brought down."

"These spells, do we know what energy they use to cast them?"

"No. Theoretically we assume it's a weaker version of our chakra but until we actually have one strapped to an operating table, we can only guess. We know this much though: The ones that can use magic have an energy core inside them which they use to cast their spells. The casting is similar to what we ninja do. While we use hand-signs to weave the chakra into the user's respective techniques and voice it aloud to help us maintain the mental focus, Wizards use wands which are short sticks that act as a conduit for the magical core inside them. In order to cast a spell, they must perform the motions necessary and say the spell out loud. Experienced Wizards however can perform magic without the use of a wand or cast it silently

"Like you."

Shiro smiled smugly. "Not needing to use hand-signs or shout your jutsus to the world has a lot of advantages. In this case I would be the type who prefers quality over quantity. The downside is that because I take the pains to master the basic jutsus, my arsenal is limited compared to other shinobi of my rank. The plus is I can use those jutsus and manipulate my chakra in ways that catch my opponents off-guard."

"I've seen you use hand-signs for a number of jutsus though."

"Yes, because it would be foolish to specialize in one role. Mastering a jutsu to the point where you don't need signs or verbal focus takes time. If I focus on mastering every single technique I learn, I would have a very small arsenal in which to counter enemy shinobi. So to counter this, I have an array of techniques which I cast normally."

Silence settled over the pair, occasionally broken by the scraping as the bowls were emptied. It was after they both settled down with contented sighs and full bellies that Kotetsu produced a scroll. He tossed it over the fire.

"It's from Izumo."

Shiro leaned forward seriously. He took the scroll and as his eyes ran down the lettering, he frowned over the contents. "So our client has been chosen to be the next Head Minister. A number of the officials voted against him. Hmm, probably Moreau's lackeys. But the final choice rested with the current Head of the Ministry and he selected Delacour. It looks like we can expect trouble. When did this arrive?"

"Around midday when I was searching for a spot to camp."

"I wonder how Izumo is handling things over there." Shiro mused.

"Enjoying himself immensely I bet," Kotetsu snorted. "Gathering and analyzing information is one of his delights."

"A useful trait to have," Shiro remarked. "The accurate information he's been able to provide has helped us a lot in the past."

Soft steps brought an end to the talk. Shiro frowned slightly. He glanced at Kotetsu across the fire. The other shinobi had also been alerted. Kotetsu had set down his bowl and was looking uneasily around. Shiro remained in his half-sitting position but he had slipped a hand into his pouch.

There was a crunch then something snapped. Shiro was up now; a kunai twirling idly in his right hand. Kotetsu joined him and the two assumed a casual battle stance.

Like an apparition a young voluptuous woman suddenly emerged from the dark border of the trees. Shiro's eyes widened in surprise. Something was wrong here. Next to him, Kotetsu had relaxed his stance. "Uh, wh- who are you?"

"Who are you?" Shiro repeated in English. The woman smiled coyly and beckoned them. Her mouth opened in a sweet calming song. The moment he felt the sedative effect of her voice, Shiro didn't hesitate. He flung the kunai and struck her in the shoulder. The song erupted into hideous shrieking and the woman's form shimmered.

Kotetsu let loose a yell of fright and disgust and leaped backwards high onto the branch of a tree, at the hideous form now confronting them. Where the woman stood was now a squat wrinkled old woman with glaring eyes and fanged teeth. Her long hair hung like clumps of wet seaweed and her skin was rotting.

The hag ripped the dagger from her shoulder all the while shrieking and then charged with her arms outstretched in a clawing manner.

Shiro bared his teeth in a pained snarl as his ears throbbed with the abnormal pitch of her voice. He leaned forward, his hand reaching behind him to grip his tanto when two kunai went sailing past him to plant themselves in the path of the charging hag. He cursed as he saw the sizzling tags attached. He quickly leaped clear of the camp before it was consumed in an almighty explosion that lit up the night.

Burning wood from the campfire went flying in every direction. The pot was flung hither in pieces, scattering its boiling contents to the world. Dull thuds sounded as the trees were struck by the shrapnel and then all was quiet again. Shiro quickly joined his companion in the safety of the trees. His right cheek was bleeding just below the eye from a long thin cut caused by a flying piece of kunai. A minute of tense silence passed, perpetrated by their heaving breathing; then Shiro began laughing.

"I've never seen you lose your nerve like that. Two explosives tags for an old woman? Really Kotetsu, you didn't even wait for me to clear the area."

"What in the name of the tailed-beasts was that?!" Kotetsu burst out. The ninja was still in a state of shock. And who could blame him, Shiro thought, the sight of the hag was chilling. Just the memory of her features sent goose-bumps all over skin.

Despite himself, Shiro sniggered again at his companion's fright. "I assume that was a hag. A magical entity you can expect to encounter in the Wizarding world. Labeled as a dark creature, the hag can assume various forms to lure her prey. Her preferred form is a beautiful woman with whom she lures men. Once caught, they can serve various purposes. The most common is nourishment."

Kotetsu shuddered. "This is it!" He declared. "I am not staying here any longer. You said you wanted me to accompany you back to the Academy, let's go right now."

Shiro warily looked at the remains of the camp before leaping down. Kotetsu joined him moments later.

"We're outside the magical barrier," Shiro commented thoughtfully. "That's probably why this creature was able to approach us. Beauxbatons has a barrier and wards in place to repel such entities."

Shiro surveyed the scene and shook his head. "Unbelievable Kotetsu, you completely decimated the camp. What, did that little old granny scare you so much?" He grinned widely.

"That creature was no sweet old lady." Was the snappy response. "You were just as frightened as I was."

"At least I didn't retreat and nearly blow up my teammate in fright." Shiro retorted. The sound of dry leaves being crunched underfoot immediately brought an end to their bickering. The sound came closer and with only a few patches of moonlight shining through the dense foliage, the two shinobi were at a disadvantage.

"Follow me," Shiro ordered tersely. He leapt up into a tree branch and then took off in the direction of the Academy with Kotetsu close behind. An angry screech rang out behind them and stretched out into a dismal howl.

The pair flitted through the forest. Thin branches reached out to tear at them as they leaped through the thick canopy. They didn't slow until they emerged from the forest onto the Academy grounds. The lighted Chateau was a welcome sight and the two shinobi hurried to the front doors. There they stopped and Shiro leaned one hand against the sleek frame. As he stood there recovering his breath, he suddenly sensed a presence approaching from behind. And it was close.

"Inikaze!" The stern voice of Maxime sounded out.

Shiro turned to see the giantess staring down at him. Next to him Kotetsu had blanched in mild shock at the size of the woman.

"You will explain yourself at once." Maxime ordered. The Headmistress glared at the two shinobi and then noted Shiro's cut. She grasped his face and tilted it slightly. "What happened in the forest?" She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the wound but Shiro pushed her hand way. While he knew the Headmistress meant it kindly, it made him uneasy having an object that could double as a weapon pointed at him.

"I am only going to heal your cut."

"Thank you but I prefer to attend such minor wounds on my own."

"Very well. Now you will tell me who your companion is and what that commotion was in the forest."

Shiro briefly closed his eyes to sense for nearby presences. A chakra signature, a faint form that resonated with life, the soft intake of breath or the thoughts of a person that manifest with energy. There was nothing.

"The night air can carry our voices a surprising distance. This discussion is best suited behind closed doors."

For the second time that day, Shiro found himself back in the Maxime's study. Only this time, his partner was with him. While Kotetsu took up position in a corner of the room where he could observe what went on, Shiro was left facing Maxime who seated herself and folded her hands.

"There are some things I cannot say," Shiro said quietly but his words carried a firmness that dared the Headmistress to protest; His face carefully crafted into a cold neutral mask. "We are not Aurors. Wizards hide from non-magical people. Well, think about a third party that hides from Wizards." He paused a moment to let the revelation take effect. "Very few know of us and those that do often request our services, Mr. Delacour being one of them. He came into contact with one of our agents and signed the mission contract. I was selected to be his daughter's protector but for precaution, I requested two others to accompany me."

Shiro inclined his head towards Kotetsu. "You've met one of my partners."

Maxime's eyes fell on the older shinobi, studying him intently before reaffixing her attention on the boy in front of her.

"And where is the other?"

"In Paris."

"Paris?" Maxime repeated in surprise.

"Yes." Shiro smiled but it lacked warmth. "He is watching over Delacour and reporting the events that occur over there to us. You see, we are in unknown waters. We do not know who our enemies might be or how they will act. For that reason, I ordered my partners to hide behind the scenes. They are my hidden blade. In your terms I believe it would be: An ace up the sleeve."

Maxime stayed silent digesting what she had heard. Opposite her, Shiro stood awaiting her reaction. His look made her feel like prey. It was unnerving.

"Why are you observing Delacour?

"Moreau."

It wasn't the whole truth but it was enough for her. Maxime leaned back. "I have no love for that vile man. Delacour has made his concerns known to you then?"

"He listed Moreau as one of his possible foes. We have enough information on that man to make us wary of him. For that reason, I left my other partner with Delacour. He is to report on the proceedings of the next Ministry election and protect Delacour if necessary."

"So you fear that Moreau will attempt murder?"

"I'm saying it is a possibility. Mr. Delacour has revealed a bit of the feud between their families. Combine that with what I know of Moreau; he is a man to be watched sharply."

From a pocket, Shiro took the scroll containing the report Izumo had sent.

"This arrived today and came from my partner in Paris. It's a brief report on how the elections went and it bodes trouble." Maxime looked at scroll intrigued and with hint of concern.

"What does it contain?"

Shiro placed the scroll back in his pocket. "Mr. Delacour has won the elections despite heavy opposition." He held up a finger to forestall Maxime's next words. "I will explain why this unsettles me. There are two possible outcomes that depend on who wins the election. If Moreau gets the seat then he would no doubt make things unpleasant for Delacour but that is such a common thing among officials. Now if Delacour wins, what better way to force him to retire by threatening what any man holds dear; his family.

"And that is why you are here." Maxime concluded.

Shiro tilted his head.

"Are you satisfied now?"

"I still have many questions. What are your abilities, where you do come from? Why do you hide from the magical world? "

"Those questions I will not answer." Shiro said. His tone carried a subtle threatening inflection that was not lost on the Headmistress. "We are a secretive group by nature and we will most certainly not reveal any of our secrets to people we remain hidden from. You will know us only as mercenaries here to fulfill a job. That is all Madame Maxime. There is one more thing though, something I have been meaning to approach you with. My partner here; I don't wish anyone to discover his presence. Is there a way you can introduce him to Academy so he can accompany us when it's time to leave for this Tri-Wizard tournament event?"

"I can," Maxime answered. She wasn't pleased at the refusal but what could she do. "However not without causing suspicion. Students are a very curious bunch. His features and sudden appearance will attract attention."

"His features won't be a problem." Shiro nodded at his companion and said something in his native language. Maxime watched curiously as the older individual sighed and put his hands into a strange gesture.

She started back in shock as the man exploded into smoke and when it cleared, an entirely different person stood there.

"What is this?" Maxime exclaimed.

Shiro smiled. "One of his abilities."

Where Kotetsu stood, was now a ragged old man. The shinobi at his teammate's request had changed into his guise of the old tramp.

"Wandless magic," Maxime stated with evident respect. "Only highly experienced witches or wizards can use such magic. It is most impressive. I have never known a spell that could change ones appearance in such a fashion. The only way is to drink a certain potion. Yes," she continued. "This will work. When the time comes to depart for England, I and a small body of chosen students will travel to Hogwarts in a carriage drawn by flying horses. I can introduce your companion as the caretaker of my steeds. However your friend will need to choose a more respectful appearance."

Shiro nodded. The plan sounded smooth to him. He looked at Kotetsu and explained what had transpired. The older man only shrugged. "You're the team leader on this assignment. I'll follow your orders."

Shiro turned back to the Headmistress. "It's settled. Now if you could be gracious enough to give him a room here. We had some trouble in the forest and I doubt my friend will willingly return to camp out there."

"Yes, I have been meaning to ask about that. I was out in the gardens when I saw a distant explosion and heard the wail of some creature."

"I had headed into the forest to find where my partner had set up his camp and while we were talking, a hag attempted to attack us. Her appearance startled him to the point that he went slightly overboard in his disposal of her."

"A hag?" Maxime said surprised. "Dark creatures like that don't usually wander so close to the barrier." She put away her wand and moved towards the door. "Your friend may occupy the room adjacent to yours. It is already fully furnished and he will not find it lacking."

Shiro bowed his head. "Thank you for hospitality."

Maxime gave a small smile. "I am curious to what will happen with the both of you here. It is rare that enigmas such as yourselves arrive. And a final word: I have spoken to Miss Delacour about her conduct earlier and she has attempted to seek you out to apologize. Because your object of being here is her protection, I had you situated in the room next to hers. I would suggest you talk to her before you sleep."

The two shinobi followed the Headmistress out the door. There Shiro bid her a final farewell and with Kotetsu in his wake, headed to his room.

"Things have been settled nicely," He remarked once they arrived at their destination. "Your room is right there Ko. I'll see you in the morning and remember," he added sternly. "Keep yourself hidden."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Kotetsu grumbled.

Shiro smiled and bade his companion goodnight. He paused a moment on turning the knob into his own quarters and glanced at the room that was occupied by Fleur. He shook his head and entered his room. He had no desire to face her.

Inside he surveyed his bed then reached up to touch his cheek. His fingers came away with partially dried blood. He clicked his tongue and went into the bathroom where he examined the cut in the mirror.

He was lucky. That shrapnel had come very close to taking out his eye. He placed a hand over the wound and closed his eyes. Slowly it started to glow with a green light. When he removed it, the cut was gone. Satisfied, he removed his clothes and headed into the shower. There he cleaned himself, relishing the soothing feeling of warm water cascading down his skin. Clean and refreshed, he went to bed and drifted into an uneasy sleep.


	6. Early Morning At Beauxbatons

Shiro was up before dawn. He sighed tiredly as he rubbed his face. It was another restless night of troubled dreams. Listlessly he picked up the bottle of pills that sat by his bedside and examined them. They were becoming less effective; forcing him to take an ever increasing amount for the chance of a peaceful sleep. The doctors in Konoha warned him against large doses but the alternative was to be torn awake to the frantic beating of his heart, cold sweat, and the faces of his victims still vivid in his mind. Perhaps it was the unfamiliarity of his surroundings that worsened his state. Shiro set the pills down. Maybe these wizards had better medication. He would inquire later. He removed his clothes, idly noting that he needed to clean his used uniforms for he was running out of fresh garments. A quick shower and then he was out prowling through the silent dimly lit hallways of the Chateau. He stopped at the main hall where the meals were taken but as expected it was empty and not a bite was to be seen. His stomach grumbled in dissent while he methodically inspected the tables and plates in hopes of a morsel, however small. He briefly considered searching for the kitchen and seeing what he could filch but decided against it. With the whole Academy asleep, now would be the perfect time to perform his side mission.

* * *

"Don't act so formal," Sarutobi chided laughingly at the young shinobi as he knelt with his head bowed. "You've known me long enough to call me grandpa."

'Grandpa?' Mentally Shiro balked at the idea. However close his relation with the aged man, he could never imagine addressing the Hokage with such ease. He was his leader; nevertheless he raised himself and assumed a relaxed stance.

"You wished to see me about something?" Shiro queried.

Sarutobi withdrew a scroll from the pile on his desk and held it out. Curious as to why he was being shown it, Shiro unfurled the scroll.

"This is a signed mission contract," he said with some confusion. "High C rank, Protection type, Destination…" he paused and looked up, "the Outside world?" Sarutobi remained silent waiting for him to finish. Shiro looked back down at the parchment. "The Wizarding section," he said in surprise. "It's rare to have contact with them." He further examined the note, meticulously going over each word. "Length, estimation a year, threats unknown."

Shiro put down the scroll and returned his attention to the aged leader. "You want me to take this mission," he said upon realizing the reason he was shown it."

"Yes."

Shiro looked down. The happy proceedings of the day melted rapidly at this news; a whole year in a foreign country. He resented such long-term missions with an abandon. It was a nagging dread on just what straits the village would be in when he returned. Would war have broken out? Would he arrive to discover a close friend had been killed on a mission? And there was a matter that stood out more than the others, what would happen to Naruto?

But if the Hokage ordered him to, he would fulfill his mission dutifully, like the shinobi of Konoha he was.

"Why me in particular?" he questioned. There was something that didn't seem right to him. Konoha had agents scattered all over in the Outside; gathering information and keeping an eye on both Wizards and the non-magic users. Why couldn't one of those stationed shinobi be given the job?

"Because you have experience with the Outside nations." Sarutobi took a puff on his pipe and leaned back to blow a couple of smoke rings that floated lazily to the ceiling.

"Lord Hokage please," Shiro cut the aged leader off firmly. "I'm disappointed that one of our greatest ninja is such a poor liar. Experience? We have ninja who have been stationed out there for years. If you're going to lie, at least make it believable."

Sarutobi chuckled. "I'm glad to see you've summoned the gall to speak to me so informally." The aged leader turned sober and Shiro felt his insides constrict at the gentle look that was directed at him. Just what was coming?

"It's true that we have ninja out there who would be better suited in terms of knowledge, but of that, do any have knowledge on Orochimaru?"

Shiro froze. Sarutobi stayed silent as the young shinobi took a deep shuddering breath and moved to the window. At last he turned around.

"Explain."

"Reports have been arriving on how wizards and magical entities have been disappearing. The magical authorities are baffled as to the kidnappings. The victims disappear without a trace. There are also rumors of a new Dark cult springing up that might be responsible."

"If it's wizards doing the kidnapping then that is their problem. We don't involve ourselves in such affairs. How does this lead to Orochimaru?"

"I cannot be certain it is my old student who is behind this. The people kidnapped range from children to teens."

"The sannin's favorite age." Shiro muttered. "But that still doesn't mean he is responsible."

"Which is why I want you to investigate. You were his subject for two years. You know his methods better than any."

"I disagree. I was his test subject. Anko Mitarashi was his apprentice. She would be ideally suited for this mission."

"Anko is away from the village on another mission. And unlike you, she cannot speak any of the dialect used by those Outside."

Shiro turned his gaze to the mission scroll. It lay there almost mocking him. "What of this mission then?"

"Make no mistake. That will be your primary assignment," Sarutobi answered. "However it will give you opportunities to confirm Orochimaru's presence. It is also an excellent spying opportunity. I want you to note anything of value during your assignment."

"I see," Shiro muttered. He picked up the mission scroll and examined it once more.

The mission seemed simple enough. A high ranking French Ministry official named Jean Claude Delacour. The task requested was a bodyguard for his eldest daughter who would be traveling to England on school business. The length of time estimated was a year.

Shiro stepped out of the Hokage tower in a troubled state. The evening was a pleasant one. The street lamps were brightly lit and happy villagers walked about. Laughter and talk sounded everywhere from the packed streets. Shiro paid no mind to the proceedings around him. He walked slowly with his head down and hands inside his pockets, pondering his assignment.

A whole year among wizards. Well first he needed information. With that in mind he headed to the Intelligence Headquarters.

"Excuse me," He said to the sharp featured woman. "I've just been assigned a mission to the Outside and I need information."

"Certainly," The woman said preparing to note his request. "Tell me what you need."

"Information on a French Wizard named Jean Claude Delacour. I want everything on and related to him. His entire profile, his family, his friends, and his enemies. Anybody that has a connection to him. Secondly, I would like whatever information we have on Beauxbatons and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Thirdly, kindly list all our contacts and shinobi outposts we have in France and England. That is all."

"That is going to be a lot of information," The woman remarked. She peered at him. "A long term mission?"

"Regretfully," Shiro answered. Thirty minutes later he left the building with a boxful of scrolls.

* * *

Armed with a broad sketch book and a pencil he began mapping the general layout of the Beauxbatons. He systematically moved through the ground floor and then the second story before exploring the third. Each of the routes in the Academy was accurately drawn, a skill his mother had taught him. The rooms he left for later detailed inspections. Morning had arrived and he could sense people around. It was time to move outside.

Shiro vacated the Academy undetected easily enough. He paused a moment to gaze at the landscape. The lush vegetation neatly lined the many paths through it. An array of golden Daffodils, White Lilies, and multi-colored roses dotted the bushes. Further out past the garden the grass was populated with Sunflowers and Gerberas. A gentle wind fanned the opened petals waiting to be bathed in the sun's life giving rays. Shiro took a deep breath. The fresh mountain was invigorating. He strolled to the stream and gazed at the shimmering sheen of limpid liquid. His eyes followed it past the Beauxbatons to the cliffs where it dropped to the river below. Satisfied Shiro turned back to his task. He set out to the tree line of the forest where he turned and examined the Chateau, marking the distance and surroundings. Then he circled as far around as he could whilst drawing the terrain. Next he marked the town at the foot of the valley and estimated the distance and direction from it to the Beauxbatons. He was busy scribbling when he sensed the approaching presence of someone he did not care to face.

"Good Morning Monsieur," spoke a sweet melodic voice that tingled his senses.

Wonderful! It was Fleur. Shiro ignored her for a moment to finish the last few sketches then he snapped his book shut and turned.

She was beautiful. Standing there with a slight smile and the early rays of the sun illuminating part of her face while the other was cast in shadows. Shiro swallowed uncomfortable.

"Miss Delacour," he said as normally as he could while tucking the book under his arm. "is there something you require?"

"Am I making you nervous?"

The question gave him pause and he was loath to admit the truth.

"Yes."

Fleur smiled and moved closer. Shiro could feel her Veela aura nipping at his emotions.

"Why do I make you nervous?"

Was she purposely trying to embarrass him? Yes she probably was.

"I think you know why."

"No, I don't. Please tell me."

That sly vixen! Her innocent smile plainly spoke otherwise. Silently Shiro flung a torrent of curses at her.

"How do you think a young boy would feel when a beautiful girl comes up to him?"

Involuntarily he felt his face begin to heat.

"You like me then?"

Was she serious? Despite his reddening face Shiro looked at her steadily.

"I- I… like your features. You yourself I cannot say."

"I'm sorry," Fleur laughed gently. "I still bear you a slight grudge and teasing you was my slight vengeance. Your reaction was most delightful."

Shiro averted his gaze and shifted awkwardly. This girl was adept at throwing his mask into disarray.

"I actually wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. It was unreasonable of me to blame you for my father's actions."

"But you still go and fulfill your revenge."

A giggle.

"I was interested to see your reaction. You were honest," this time perhaps, Shiro thought. "and able to keep your mind. I was tempted to use my full allure to test your limit. May we start over?"

Fleur held out her hand with the palm facing downwards. Shiro contemplated it for a moment. He took her hand and kissed it hoping he was not mistaken with the gesture.

"I'm Fleur Delacour."

"Inikaze"

"That's an unusual name."

"It's my family name. My first name is reserved for those I trust."

Fleur's eyes drifted to the sketches he had under his arm.

"What were you writing so early in the morning?"

"I was sketching the landscape," a half truth "It was something my mother taught me and it's a pastime I partake in occasionally."

"May I have a look?"

Shiro adopted an embarrassed expression. "No, I'm really not good at it. It would be very embarrassing to me to have someone see it."

Fleur smiled playfully. "Would you show me if I promise not to criticize?"

"No." Shiro unzipped his vest and stuffed the sketches in before zipping it back up.

Fleur laughed at his action. Soft and sweet laughter that caressed his senses bidding him to relax. It only made him more alert.

"How did my father come to pick you?" she asked.

"He didn't select me personally. He contacted my association and I happened to be picked for the task."

"Tell me about your association"

"I cannot."

"Why is that?"

"We are a secretive group."

"Would you consider yourself good enough to protect me?" Fleur asked abruptly.

Shiro stilled. There was something in her tone that nudged his danger sense. He half turned his head to eye her. Her posture he realized. It was no longer a stance for casual conversation but one who was preparing to attack.

"Yes."

"Show me then!"

Fleur whipped her wand out intending to hex her guard when he vanished. An arm wrapped around her throat and another seized her wrist and gave it a sharp twist. With a cry of pain she was forced to drop it. "Do you know how easy it would be to snap your neck right now?" his voice whispered into her ear. The hold tightened and Fleur's heart pulsed fearfully and then she was released. She whipped about and stumbled back holding her sore wrist.

Shiro stepped forward and picked up her wand. "Tell me Miss Delacour," he said while twirling it lazily between his fingers," how do you plan to fight without your wand?"

Fleur was shaken. She couldn't understand what had happened. She had intended to gauge his skills while hopefully showing him up. But he had somehow thoroughly trounced her. The memory of being in his hold sent cold shivers down her spine. When he whispered in her ear she felt an almost overwhelming intent to kill. Suddenly he tossed her wand back. Fleur caught it bewildered. "Do you wish to try again?" he asked with a condescending smile. Hot red anger erupted at the subtle mockery. It corroded her fear.

"Stupify!" she shouted pouring her magical essence into the spell. Fueled with her emotions the red beam lanced into the tree he was standing at a moment earlier. A wide hole was blasted into the trunk sending splinters flying. Fleur looked wildly around for him. There to her right! "Petrifi-" she began when he was suddenly in her face. Again her wrist was seized and twisted. For the second time that morning she cried out. Next her arm was violently yanked up and a powerful blow was delivered to her stomach. She doubled over, mouth open in a soundless cry when he threw her to the ground. His knee compressed her diaphragm and a curiously shaped dagger was at her throat.

Fleur thought she was going to be killed as she stared into his frigid eyes. Eyes were said to be the window to a person's soul. As time stopped she just knew he had killed and would have no qualms about finishing her off. And then he released her and stood up pocketing his dagger. She lay motionless too afraid to move. His face softened and he held out his hand.

"Are you satisfied now Miss Delacour?"

Hesitantly she accepted and was helped to her feet and her wand was returned. Shiro moved away to ease the tension. After his demonstration the girl was regarding him in fear. He hadn't meant to be so direct. It was battle instinct that turned him into a precise killer the moment he felt threatened. Judging from Fleur's face he had really scared her. He looked at her wrist and considered offering to heal the soreness but decided against it. He didn't feel like revealing more of his abilities at this moment.

"Here," Shiro approached and took her hand. His hands glowed faintly as he eased the twisted tendons and joint. The sight of her face had struck a chord of guilt within him and it wouldn't do to be on bad terms with the objective of his task so despite his previous resolution he healed her wrist.

Fleur remained silent for a minute trying to digest what had occurred. He had uttered no spells and took her down in pure physical form. But what did he use to move with such speed? Could it have been silent incantation? And then his last act. That was wandless magic. She flexed her wrist experimentally; it was perfect. She looked up to see him casually observing her.

"I hope you realize I am not here for show and I wouldn't be if I could be defeated by someone of your caliber." Shiro smirked slightly and turned towards Beauxbatons. "I'm hungry."

Fleur hurried after him. She was recovering rapidly. "I don't think you realize your role." She remarked. "Aren't you supposed to be protecting me instead of the opposite?"

"I have a right to defend myself and you did request me to attack."

"How did you accomplish all that? I didn't see you use a wand or shout an incantation. How did you heal my wrist? I've never seen such a method. Are you a wandless user?"

"In a sense," Shiro said. "I won't talk about my techniques. It's the custom of where I am from to be secretive. Our abilities are different to yours but in a way similar." He fell silent unwilling to say more which Fleur accepted. They walked back in silence.

"Wait, the dining hall is this way." Shiro had turned away after they walked through the front entrance.

"I know but I prefer to eat alone. My food should be waiting in my room." He gave a brief wave and returned to his room. An appetizing array of dishes lay spread out near his bed. A knock sounded and he found Kotetsu on the other side balancing a tray. Quickly Shiro pulled him inside nearly upsetting the dishes.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Eating with the only person I know in this strange world."

"I know that," Shiro clapped his forehead. "I want to know why you weren't disguised!"

"No one was near."

Shiro relaxed. Despite the man's brash nature at times he was a fully trained shinobi. Not a child. "Still you can't be careful enough. Do me a favor and always keep your disguise on when you leave your room."

"Fine, I will."

Shiro indicated a small table and the two sat down to breakfast. As he ate, Shiro remembered his sketches. He removed them from his vest and deposited them besides the plates. Kotetsu briefly looked them over. "You've been busy."

"I still need to mark the rooms," Shiro said, "and list the defenses this school has. After that I can send it back to the Intel Division."

"What happened?"

Shiro looked up confused.

"I can tell you experienced something. You always have that twitch on your face when you are thinking over something. So what happened?"

Shiro smiled fondly. After years of working together his two teammates could always tell when something happened. It was near impossible to hide something from them.

"I encountered our client's daughter while I was out sketching. She was still sore over my presence and wanted to teach me a little lesson."

Kotetsu laughed. "Trying to take on a shinobi. That's cute. Did you hurt her?"

"Nothing serious. Just enough to show that I wasn't an unskilled teen with a pretty face. She was quite dispirited afterwards. I think we'll actually get along now; until she forgets the lesson she received."

"There's something else."

"Hmm?"

"That massive woman? She was looking for you earlier but then turned to me. She gave me some papers. I think she said they were class schedules."

"Lovely," Shiro sighed. "they'll be gazing at me like some exhibition."

"Only until their curiosity wears off," Kotetsu said smiling at his friend's discomfort.

"And what do you have planned for today?"

"I'm going back to that town we arrived at. If I stay locked in my room I'll die of boredom. Can you lend me some money?"

"Kotetsu those are expenses for the mission."

"I know and we are on the mission. Just a little bit please?"

"Ugh," Shiro quickly scraped the last morsel off his plate then walked to the nightstand from which he withdrew a small pouch. He rummaged around and withdrew some silver coins the wizards called Sickles. "This should serve your purpose."

Kotetsu took them with glee. "Do you even know enough English to make yourself understood?"

"I don't need English to point at what I want."

"And when they give the price?"

"I know enough for that."

"Yes, you and your 'me want, you give' English."

Shiro smilingly ducked a swipe. "Alright Ko. Back off. Where are class schedules you were given?"

"In my room,"

"I'll get it then."

Shiro found the sheets easily. He gave them a cursory glance. The first session on the list started at 9 am. He returned to his room and checked the clock. That was in a few minutes. He needed to get moving.

"I'm heading to class."

"Be a good boy now."

Shiro lazily flicked a shuriken over his shoulder as he left. A light twang indicated it being caught. "Don't do anything stupid out there Kotetsu." He closed the door. Now to find a teacher or student for directions.


	7. Changelog

Been a while but I've completed my revisions of the previous chapters and finally posted the new one.

As I mentioned in the now deleted Author's Note, I would post a list of the changes I made.

1 I've now added Chapter Titles to the browsing box than the actual document.

2 Large Change: I added Shiro's Backstory to Chapter 1 and changed a little bit of the dialogue between Shiro and Jean.

3 Large Change: I have merged the previous Chapters 2 and 3 into one. I added a little to the early morning scene and changed the dialogue a little during the breakfast scene.

4 Minute tweaks to the dialogue in Chapter 4

5 Some changes to the dialogue between Maxime, Shiro, and Kotetsu in Chapter 5

6 New Chapter.

That's it.


	8. Classes And A Day's End

**Hornet07**

Thanks, your criticism on my lack of section breaks is appreciated. I hope I made things clearer now.

* * *

Shiro looked up from the pile of scrolls. The quiet night was broken by someone knocking on his door. Opening it he found his two friends on the other side. "Izumo, Kotetsu," he greeted. "What are you two doing here?"

Kotetsu held some steaming paper bags while Izumo had several bottles of milk clasped in his arms. "We got some fresh buns and decided to eat with you. It's been four days since we've been together." The shaggy haired shinobi rattled the paper.

"For Kotetsu here that is like eternity," Izumo said lightly. "The milk is fresh and cold from the freezer and we've bought all sorts of buns. Meat, vegetables, curry, and some rice balls." He looked at Shiro closely. The young Chunin had a haggard appearance. "Shiro are you alright?"

Shiro smiled at his friends. Their unexpected visit warmed his heart and his previous pressure slowly dissipated. It would be good to relax a bit. "Come inside," he said tiredly but with a happy expression. "I'll explain there."

He stood aside and they entered. At seeing his table covered in scrolls Kotetsu let loose an exclamation. "Kami! Are you studying for some kind of exam? What are all these scrolls for?"

"It's information from the Intelligence Division."

His two friends instantly grew serious.

"Have you got a mission?"

"Yes, a one year mission."

"One year?" Kotetsu said in shock. "The longest we've had was three months."

"What is this mission exactly?" Izumo asked. He looked at the messy table and glanced around unsure on where to place the bottles. Shiro waved at the floor.

"It's a protection type mission, high C-rank. The client is a French Wizard named Jean Claude Delacour."

"A mission to the Outside and among wizards…" Izumo mumbled with a frown. "What are the hidden details to this? Normally these missions are handled by shinobi stationed in the Outside."

"Orochimaru is suspected to be stirring up trouble. The Hokage decided to assign me this mission as it will take me into the hotspots where I can investigate on the side."

"Orochimaru the Snake Sannin?" Kotetsu asked in astonishment. "What is that traitor doing there?"

"I can very well guess. Finding and experimenting on magical beings. Shinobi from other villages have kidnapped wizards before to find out how they tick but the rate of disappearances has increased spontaneously in two Outside Nations; France and England."

"There something wrong with this," Izumo said. The brown haired shinobi looked troubled. "This should be handled by Outside shinobi. Why pick you?"

"Because I was his lab rat for two years. I am familiar with his ways and will pick up his scent easier than most."

"That was the Hokage's reason?" Izumo gave a disdainful look. "You don't believe that do you?"

"For me there's such a big hole in that reason it's like a bucket without a bottom. What can I do though? The Hokage's orders are absolute."

"Please Shiro. We both know you've disobeyed the Hokage's orders before. Don't try to put on the good boy act."

Shiro smirked.

"How does this tie in with your mission?" Kotetsu interrupted.

"The mission is to protect the client's daughter who is currently in France. She will be travelling to England on a school affair and will remain there for a year. During this time I am supposed to see if there is any trace of Orochimaru if an opportunity comes."

"It strikes me as pretty sketchy to assign you something that large and not even have it take priority. That old man must have something planned." Izumo brushed aside some of the scrolls on the table. "Is this our client then?"

Shiro looked over. "Yes. I had the Intelligence Division pull out everything on him as well as information on the Magical Communities."

"It looks so excessive," Kotetsu muttered eyeing the laden table.

"You should learn from him and me," Izumo said. "Information is the key factor to a ninja's success. A ninja without full knowledge of his surroundings is most likely-"

"-to fail. Yeah, I heard you say that hundreds of times now." Kotetsu cut in. "I've completed my missions and never had to study anything."

"That's because we did all the analyzing for you."

"I know. It's great to have teammates like you."

Izumo shook his head exasperatedly. He turned to back to Shiro, "Are you taking this mission alone?"

"No. A jonin squad was assigned to assist me."

"What?! You didn't ask for us?" Kotetsu shouted.

Shiro shushed him, "Naruto is sleeping."

"Why didn't the Hokage assign us to go with you?" Kotetsu demanded in a quieter tone.

"Because I asked him not to; this mission will take a year. One whole year away from the village on foreign soil. Do you rea-"

"Yes we do." Izumo said. "We've been a team for three years now and you are our best friend. We'd never get any sleep knowing you're far away getting into trouble and we aren't there to pull you out."

Shiro crossed his arms. "Are you aware I've completed Hunter Nin missions solo?"

"That's not the point," Kotetsu said. "We – are – coming – with – you!" the long spikey haired ninja enunciated every word with a jab at Shiro's chest.

"When do you leave?"

"Three days."

"Done! First thing in the morning we'll drop by the Hokage tower and change the roster."

Shiro smiled warmly. "I'm really glad to have you two besides me."

"Of course!" Kotetsu said, imperiously thumping his chest.

Shiro's smile turned impish. The sight quickly quelled the other ninja's impetuous mood.

"That means you will have to study these scrolls. I already have had some experience with the Magical section. Both of you don't. Aside from that you will need to learn the most common tongue of the Outside: English."

Kotetsu quickly drooped and fell into a torrent of complaints which Izumo cut short.

"But can we at least enjoy ourselves first? The food is getting cold."

"And the milk is warming," Izumo added.

"I don't see why not." Shiro neatly cleared the table and stuffed the scrolls back into the box which he removed from the table. The three friends gathered around for a happy meal.

* * *

**Present Time**

"Let's see first off is… Agrippine's Proper Etiquette for Ladies? A Study on Magical Creatures then Advanced Dueling. Hmm, that will be interesting to watch. After that… essays…"

Shiro thumbed through the pages as he slowly walked down the stairs. He neatly folded the sheets and tucked them in a hidden pocket. There was no occasion to search for a teacher. With classes starting, the Academy was bustling like a beehive. Shiro stepped into the entrance hall and observed the crowd. His presence was noted almost instantly. A student excitedly nudged his friend and pointed and a partial hush passed through the crowd as one by one they espied him. The single teacher in the throng quickly got the students moving. With disappointed faces and backwards glances they filed away.

Shiro moved towards the teacher intending to ask for directions when someone took hold of his arm. He turned around to see an attractive darkish-blond girl. Curios that someone would be so direct he tilted his head in question.

"Could you possibly be looking for Agrippine's class?" unlike Fleur her English was nearly accent free.

"I am." Shiro answered lightly attempting to tug his arm loose but the girl seemed determined to hold on.

"I am attending that class and would gladly take you there." She moved past and he was forced to follow. Content for now to flow with the situation Shiro allowed himself to be led.

"How did you know I was searching for that class?"

"It is quite obvious. You are the new arrival who was the talk of the school last night are you not? Naturally as Fleur's guardian you'd be looking to attend the same classes as she."

"You are a friend of Miss Delacour then?" Shiro wasn't so sure. He detected a trace of hidden contempt when the girl mentioned the name.

"Not quite. We have different views and therefore do not see eye to eye on many matters."

"What is your name?"

"Annabelle Moreau but you are permitted to call me Annabelle."

Shiro stifled a smile as he imagined Fleur's face at seeing him arm in hand with her enemy. It was an unexpected revelation but as the girl seemed interested in him, perhaps he could keep on neutral ground with her.

"You speak English very proficiently compared to others I have met."

Annabelle smiled. "I am of mixed nationalities. My mother was from England and I spent a good many years of my life there before my father felt it was time to return to his roots. Where are you from?"

"A small village in the Far East."

"Oh? You are a long way from home. What made you leave?"

"To seek adventure. I was unsatisfied with the everyday mundane village life. I desired something exciting so when an opportunity came in the form of a Western merchant, I seized it. I left and served the man for several years and during that time he taught me many things including the English language."

"You speak it well but you still have an accent. However it does have an attractive flair."

Her hand slid from his arm to coil around his fingers. She cast a curious glance down as her fingers glided over the cold metal plating of his gloves. "But what interests me the most is how you came to know magic."

"The merchant happened to be a wizard and so was I though I had no idea. He sensed my aura and decided to train me. It was quite a shock to discover something that was considered a myth actually existed. I parted ways with him eventually. He gave me a tidy sum alongside my wages to help me start and so I decided to improve my magical skills and returned to the East. I found a school to enroll in and studied hard. When I graduated I decide to hire out my skills. It was enjoyable and I made a decent, if at times, dangerous living. But that was the reason I left my village in the first place, a life of thrill. Granted some jobs were quite dullish and I cannot say I find my current one exciting but it pays well."

"A fascinating story. How did you come into contact with the Delacours?"

"One of my former clients happened to be a well-known acquaintance of them and he recommended me highly. Delacour viewed me with skepticism, an unfortunate effect of my age, but after a demonstration decided to hire me."

"I am glad he did. I wouldn't ha- oh here we are." They stopped in front of the classroom. Annabelle opened the door and entered still holding his hand. The seated students stared at them and Shiro could already predict the gossip that would spring. He discerned Fleur among them. The Veela was gazing at him sharply.

"It was a pleasure meeting you… oh forgive me. I didn't even ask your name."

"Inikaze but you may call me Shiro if you so desire."

"Shiro then," Annabelle smiled coyly. "I look forward to the moment we can talk again."

As Annabelle went to take her seat, Shiro took up a position in the back of class where he could observe without everybody staring at him. The teacher who spoke no English and was rather rotund with a pair of small spectacles that somehow remained on her fat face conjured him a chair. This act of magic was intriguing. Such feats were incapable with chakra or perhaps the method wasn't discovered yet.

The class was undertaken in French of which Shiro had no grasp. It was utterly boring; his sole entertainment was watching the teacher. She a harsh perfectionist, and strutted with an air like the haughtiest of lords, peering sharply at the students. The session consisted of lectures and demonstrations. Each time someone made a mistake she came barging like a mother hen. Class ended after an hour and thirty minutes and Shiro was heartily glad. The sole problem was now the students would have time to surround him whilst heading to the next class.

He quickly stood up and exited the room while the students were busy collecting their things. It was a temporary respite. As soon as the students poured out, Shiro found himself amidst a mob of curious teenagers.

"Hi, I'm Arlette," A dark haired girl introduced herself.

"Hello, my name is Clarisse," said another.

"What's your name?"

"How did you become Fleur's escort?"

"What are your magical abilities?"

"Are you a good dueler?"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon," Annabelle said coming up with a sly smile. "Give him some room girls. I'm certain Shiro is quite flustered with you crowding around him."

"What you know his first name?" another girl exclaimed. "That's low getting ahead of us like that."

"And you were holding his hand before class."

"Shiro was lost and I simply guided him to his destination. We had an enlightening talk on the way of which I'll happily regale you later. Now get moving or we'll be chastised sternly for being late."

Shiro flashed Annabelle a grateful smile and dropped to the back of the throng where he could follow discreetly. Fleur soon fell in pace with him.

"So Shiro is your name." Her tone was annoyed. "You refused to tell me but someone else like that girl you are fine?"

"Keep your friends close but your enemies closer." Shiro quoted pleasantly. "I know that girl is of the Moreau family, your enemy."

"You were very friendly." Fleur persisted.

"How I act should be no concern to you."

"On the contrary you are my guard. You are paid to serve me. How you act is of concern to me."

"I am paid to watch over you and eliminate any threats that might appear. Of course abiding by your wishes is an unspoken term in the contract but there is a limit to what you can order me to do. As much as it may irk you, I plan on keeping friendly ground with the Moreau girl. It might come in useful later."

Fleur looked disgruntled. "And what else did you share with her that I am clearly not worthy enough to be privy to?"

Shiro looked at the students. Some were looking back interestedly. He lowered his voice and recounted his conversation earlier. Fleur looked at him. "You revealed more to her than you did with me."

"And it was all a lie." Shiro said causing her to halt momentarily. All the way to the next class Fleur studied him with an expression he could not place.

A Study of Magical Creatures turned out to be more interesting than the prior session. The class was again spoken in French but Shiro had requested an English copy of the text book from the teacher. Annabelle stood up to translate his request. She cast an aggravating smile towards Fleur as she sat back down. The Veela wasn't pleased.

Shiro went through the book with interest. The information obtained from the Intel Division was limited thus many of the creatures were new to him. Thumbing through the pages he came across the Hags. A smile crept onto his face at recalling the fright Kotetsu had suffered. The smile quickly faded as he remembered the hag's features. The time passed quickly and then came the final class he was looking forward to.

The classroom for Advanced Dueling was considerably larger than those he had previously encountered. The students were seated in a half circle facing a large space occupied by a mat. Other people from different classes had also arrived. The teacher was a slender petite woman who moved with fluid grace. After a tedious explanation on spell types and counters it was time for practice. The first volunteer was Annabelle. The girl marched elegantly onto the mat and turned to face the gathering, her eyes seeking his. Shiro knew instantly what to expect.

"I would like to challenge Mr. Inikaze to a duel." She announced clearly. "Being a professional wizard it would be highly beneficial to the class to see how he performs."

"An excellent idea," said Miss Elaine. "Mr. Inikaze if you would be so kind."

Shiro opened his mouth to refuse when Fleur spoke up, "I agree. I am curious to see a demonstration."

With the whole class looking expectantly at him Shiro was forced to accept.

"Of course. I have no objection."

But as he passed Fleur he whispered: "I am not your personal attack dog."

The class murmured excitedly as Shiro walked onto the dueling space; clearly anticipating a good show. "Too bad they'll be disappointed," he thought as he positioned himself opposite Annabelle. The girl though tense wore a confident smile.

"Are the participants ready?"

Annabelle half raised her wand while Shiro stuck his hand into his pouch. He was going to end this quickly. The girl would obviously be informing her father of his presence and he wasn't about to reveal the extent of his abilities. The class watched with mounting anticipation as Professor Elaine glanced at them both and then said: "Begin!"

Annabelle made the first move with a cry of "Immobilus!"

Barely a second after casting, she was engulfed in smoke. The spell went whizzing harmlessly by; Shiro merely twisted his body to avoid it. He darted into the cloud and the assembly heard a girlish shriek and a brief scuffle followed by a thump. When the smoke cleared it revealed Annabelle face down and struggling with both arms restrained behind her while Shiro casually tapped her head with her own wand.

"Umm, Mr. Inikaze wins," Professor Elaine said after a short pause.

Shiro released his hold and returned the wand with a smile to its ruffled owner. He wanted to laugh at her expression. Being defeated so quickly and in such an unexpected manner had discombobulated her.

"That was… unusual but thank you for the demonstration. If I could inquire, why didn't you use your wand?"

Shiro glanced back at the teacher. "Because I had no reason to. Why prolong a fight when you can end it by simply disarming your opponent?" The fighting strength of wizards was laughable. Everything depended on their little sticks.

"But there are spells to disarm."

"And those stand the chance of being blocked or dodged. The last thing a wizard expects is his opponent to charge him head-on. My tactic was unexpected and therefor caught her with her pants down." He smirked slightly as Annabelle shifted uncomfortably. "I've come to realize that we focus too much on our wands. If that is taken away, how can we fight? That is why I decided to learn the muggle aspect of physical combat. It has served me very well."

"I see. You make a good point."

"He does. Thinking back I must say I rather enjoyed being held down. It is a shame I wasn't on my back."

"Miss Moreau!" Professor Elaine exclaimed amidst the giggling of the class. "That is very inappropriate."

Shiro returned to his place. The Moreau girl was certainly bold. For the duration of the class he studied the various duels that took place. As long as he wasn't caught unawares, he had nothing to worry about. The spells moved with the speed of a normally thrown kunai. It was the wandless and silent casts he had to be wary of.

With a little Genjutsu Shiro disappeared as the class ended. According to the schedule sheets, the rest of the day consisted of studying in the library in preparation for essays. Dully he weaved through the signs for a concealment jutsu as the classroom door opened and the students flowed out eagerly peering up and down the hall for his presence. He saw Fleur look around confused. For the rest of the day he followed and kept a lazy eye on the French Veela. It was utterly boring. To think he had to go through another thirty days of this. May Kami have pity on him.

"I'm envious. You look like you've been having the time of your life!"

It was eight o'clock at night and Kotetsu had returned with several souvenirs of his trip. The older man was in his room and comfortably sprawled on the bed.

Shiro hummed his annoyance and walked over to the table on which dinner sat, while peeling off his gloves. Kotetsu had brought his serving but the bowls lay untouched.

"You didn't eat?" Shiro inquired somewhat cautiously as he zipped off his vest and tossed it along with the gloves onto the bed. His teammate's appetite was something of renown and he doubted the man had the grace to wait.

"I stuffed myself back in the town. The food here is interesting."

"No wonder." Shiro held out his hand. "Now return what you didn't spend."

The same sum he had handed out was handed back. Shiro surveyed the coins and then the trinkets and the couple of bottles about. He then stared at the other ninja silently.

Kotetsu proudly waved a small cloth pouch that rattled in good cheer. "You can keep your mission expenses. I made my own money!"

"Alright," Shiro placed the Sickles back into his purse and turned about. "Now how did you do that?"

Kotetsu leaned forward to eagerly recount his escapade in the town. After arriving he had found his way to a tavern of ill-repute. His unusual appearance promptly attracted the attention of several thugs eager for a tussle. Dispatching them was laughably easily and his feat earned him the attention of a group of merchants. With his limited English and their just as limited grasp of English it was quite a headache to understand each other but at last an understanding was reached. A gang in the town had robbed them of their merchandise. If he could drive them off and retrieve their goods he would be well compensated.

"What of the members?" Shiro asked. He could guess the answer.

Kotetsu looked at him. "I knocked them out and left them to the authorities. Killing them would have attracted unpleasant attention."

Shiro hummed and sat down to his simple repast of beef stew and warm crunchy bread.

"Go on."

The thugs Kotetsu had scuffed with earlier were part of the gang. Eager to avenge their injured pride they returned with their friends. Kotetsu once again made them bite the dust to the astonishment of the town folks. With the authorities now brave enough to act, the group was arrested and the location of their hideout wrung from them. A celebration was thrown afterwards in thanks.

"And then you wasted the money on worthless trinkets and some beverages." Shiro commented with a look at the bottles.

The pouch was rattled again.

"Not all of it."

Shiro dipped his spoon into the stew. Kotetsu joined him and plunked one of the bottles down.

"I got this from the town. It's some form of weakened alcohol. It's good."

Shiro accepted a glass and took an experimental sip, swilling the liquid around his mouth.

"Rather spicy with a herb-like fragrance and a hint of earthy mustiness… It is pleasant."

Kotetsu nodded pleased.

"How did things go with you?"

A knock sounded before Shiro could reply. Both ninja started at the sound. Shiro stood and moved to answer while indicating to Kotetsu to make himself scarce. The other ninja quickly left through the window.

Making sure Kotetsu was gone, Shiro opened the door and stilled in surprise. Facing him was Fleur Delacour carrying a platter.

"Miss Delacour is there something you need?"

Shiro was forced to step back as Fleur pushed past him.

"I am going to eat with you."

"I beg your pardon?" Shiro blinked. This was unexpected and unwelcome.

Fleur smiled saucily and placed her platter on the table. Her eyes took in the multiple trays and cups about.

"Was someone here?" she asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Only myself," Shiro said smoothly looking at her steadily.

"What are these items?" she asked, examining the souvenirs left by Kotetsu.

"Little trinkets I bought from the town when I first arrived here."

"Shirrroo," she practically purred his name to his great discomfort. "I can tell you are not the type to indulge in such trivialities. The food here is more than one person can eat and explain to me why you need two glasses."

"You've only known me for a day Miss Delacour. To judge someone on such a short basis is poor decision making at its finest. I skipped lunch today and so was feeling hungrier than usual and Madame Maxime was kind enough to arrange a second serving for me. Though she could have instructed the staff to leave out the extra utensils."

Shiro sat back down to his meal with the clear air of dismissal and began eating. Fleur didn't look convinced but his lie, despite having enough flaws to make him wince, was delivered with all the smoothness accumulated from years of deception. It was enough to make her drop the matter.

Fleur collected another chair from across the room and placed this opposite him. After she seated herself Shiro steeped his fingers.

"What do you want?" he asked his tone making it clear he wanted a direct answer.

"You interest me," Fleur said simply. "I wish to get acquainted with you."

"You will be sorely disappointed then. I will not talk about myself."

"You are very dull company," Fleur remarked unperturbed. "Men would sacrifice a great deal to be in your position."

Shiro ignored her and focused on emptying his bowl. Fleur contemplated him silently but with a slight smile. Her guard was a refreshing experience. He was first person she had encountered in years that could withstand her allure and actually rebuff her approaches. Such a find was a rare thing indeed; plus if she was to acknowledge her more superficial view, he had pleasantly attractive features. But it was the mysteriousness which enveloped him that attracted her the most. He was abnormally skilled for a mere teenage wizard and used unknown and unorthodox methods in fights. Had he killed, she wondered troubled. She recalled all too clearly the suffocating bloodlust when he pinned her in the forest and the steely gaze in his eyes.

Shiro put his empty bowl away and reluctantly reached for Kotetsu's untouched portion. He glanced at Fleur's servings. She wasn't even half done. He resisted the urge to sigh. As he prepared to eat his second helping he was acutely aware of the Veela's gaze. It was unnerving.

"Is there something wrong?" Shiro asked at last, looking up at her.

Fleur started at his voice. She had been lost in the workings of her mind.

"Shiro," Fleur asked somewhat hesitatingly. "Have you killed before?"

Shiro stopped, his spoon in mid-air. The question was abrupt but it provided an opportunity.

"A bargain then Miss Delacour," he said.

"A bargain?" Fleur asked confused.

"I will answer your question and you will leave my room." Shiro glanced at her plate. "I was hoping to use the excuse 'since you are done' to kick you out courteously but you are nowhere near finished and I am tired of waiting."

Shiro resumed eating but kept a half-lidded eye on her. Fleur contemplated the offer.

"I accept."

Shiro put down his spoon. Fleur swallowed in apprehensive anticipation. Her face fell comically at his answer.

"No, I haven't."

"Wha- but I don't…"

Shiro smiled in a light that was anything but friendly.

Fleur stood staring at him still too surprised by his unexpected answer. She was so certain his answer was 'yes'. Suddenly the room seemed to darken and an icy presence coiled around her throat causing her to breath erratically. Fleur started back in alarm as his features changed. There were the eyes he displayed back in the forest; Cold and blank but radiating the willingness to kill by their very inexpressiveness.

"The door Miss Delacor."

Fleur practically rushed to leave the room. She gasped in fright as he stood suddenly and grasped her arm. She made a grab for her wand but he effortlessly caught her hand. For a second they stood face to face and then he slowly relinquished his grip.

"You are forgetting your dinner."

Shakily Fleur moved to grab her platter. He opened the door. The hysteria that was slowly mounting vanished when she stepped outside in the hallway. Did he possess something that he was able to exude like her allure? Shaken she cast a backward glance at his figure framed in the doorway.

"You've seen my real self. Do you still wish to know me?" he closed the door.


	9. Hogwarts At Last

It was night when Izumo made his way to the outskirts of the Delacour mansion grounds. The Leaf shinobi on guard nodded at his approach.

"There hasn't been any disturbances but two men were lurking about yesterday in the afternoon. It looked like they were studying the place."

"Did you see their faces," Izumo asked.

"Yes. One was fairly young with common features and the dark hair these French seem to possess. The other was middle-aged and well dressed. But nothing has happened. Have you completed your business?"

"Yes without success."

"We will keep an eye on that matter. I will be off then."

Izumo voiced his thanks at the other ninja who then took his leave. The brown haired chunin settled down comfortable for his nightly vigil. He had been to the closest Hidden Leaf establishment in the city but the ninja there had no helpful information regarding the Dark cultist group that recently sprung up. Izumo obtained the cooperation of the establishment and a ninja versed in French accompanied him as a translator. He visited the sites of the kidnappings supposedly committed by this group and talked with the local residents but his efforts yielding nothing. Mindful of the task Shiro had placed upon him, he asked that a shinobi be stationed at the Delacour mansion while he was investigating.

He kept up a sharp vigil but as the hours flew by he relaxed. By three in the morning he doubted that anything would happen when a group of hooded individuals appeared in the street.

Izumo quickly vanished and made his way behind them. One was talking. Izumo frowned in frustration. He couldn't understand the man! English he had a basic grasp on but nothing with French. He needed to start learning it.

The group cautiously made their way to the large gates leading into the mansion grounds. To Izumo's surprise, the gate was unlocked. Somebody inside was a collaborator. He debated on what to do. He had no way of knowing if these were just thieves or were here to kill the Delacour head. By this time the group was creeping towards the mansion's entrance.

Izumo smiled mischievously and primed an explosive tag. This he tossed in the air in their direction. The tag detonated thunderously and momentarily lighted the area. Amidst the shrieks of surprise he threw two more for good measure and then hid. The noise would wake the mansion and the surrounding buildings. They would have no choice but to retreat and when they did he would capture one for interrogation.

To his shock, instead of fleeing, one rallied the rest and they charged for the front door. Izumo drew a kunai. This made it clear. They were assassins. He darted through the gate after them. Applying a burst of chakra he appeared in their midst. Before any could react, he slashed the throats of two and flung the kunai into the jugular of another. The remaining three cried out and fired several spells at him. Mindful of Shiro's lectures, Izumo dodged the colored lights and appeared behind one of the assailants in a burst of pure speed. He kicked the man's legs from under him, grabbed the neck and twisted it sharply. A shuriken snatched from his holster buried itself into the throat of the second while the third stood still, too shocked by the swift and vicious elimination of his comrades. A heavy blow to the man's cranium brought him to unconsciousness. Izumo quickly grabbed the man and weaving the signs for the Shunshin jutsu reappeared outside the gates.

Lights were appearing inside the mansion and the surrounding villas. Izumo doubted that a further attempt at this stage would be made and so left the scene with his captive.

* * *

Life at Beauxbatons fell into an ordinary if rather dull routine. Shiro soon achieved the reputation of a ghost. He attended the classes silently, always sitting in the back and disappearing the moment it was over. Occasionally students caught glimpses of him wandering the halls or grounds. The sight of him was so rare outside of class that it was questioned if he was really doing his job. That matter was settled a few days after his arrival when Fleur and Anabelle got into a verbal confrontation that quickly turned violent. Shiro appeared in their midst without a sound and snatched the wands from their fingers. His sudden appearance was enough to disperse the heated atmosphere and with a few parting words he wandered off. Those that attempted to follow were left looking about bewildered.

Though he got his little moments startling the students and playing minor tricks on them with Genjutsu, Shiro was unhappy. It was like a leech constantly sucking at him. The days were boring and his nights were troubled. He thought often of his home and of Naruto. Thoughts on how the boy was doing invaded his head during the dark hours of the night. He wondered if Iruka had taken his advice on how to tutor the little blonde bundle of energy. The boy was too impetuous and thick-headed to teach like a normal child. He had to be taught by example; monkey see, monkey do and even then the subject had to be interesting and dumbed down. The young academy teacher certainly had a head splitting task ahead of him but Shiro was confident the man wouldn't fail to impress.

Since the night Fleur visited him, the Veela kept her distance. Something Shiro was glad for. The girl was far too confident in her charms and she had a right to be. He may be a hardened killer but he was still young and susceptible to the allure of a beautiful girl. The moments where this showed embarrassed him to no end. The Veela's sultry smile with that hint of a smirk oozing knowingness; he detested that the girl thought she could play him as she wished. Shiro was well aware of the scrutinizing looks she cast at him. As long as she stayed away she was welcome to study him from afar.

Though the sun had barely risen, the Dining Hall was filled with excited students. Today was the day everyone had been waiting for; the moment when Maxime would announce those chosen to represent Beauxbatons at the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Maxime stood up from her seat, dwarfing the other professors, and a hush blanketed the hall as she unrolled a piece of parchment.

"Students of Beauxbatons. This is a moment worthy to be recorded in Beauxbatons history. After many years the Tri-Wizard Tournament has once again been opened. I will select a group of twenty students to represent our noble Academy."

Everyone looked at each other, eager, excited, and each hoping he or she would be in the group of honor. All eyes again turned to the Headmistress when she cleared her throat. "First off is Miss-…" The Headmistress trailed off as she suddenly noticed a figure leaning against the wall by the entrance doors. It was Shiro. The Chunin had slipped in quietly and now stood listening with crossed arms to the announcement. He was fully dressed and equipped to kill. His dark clothing was rumpled but shone with a glossy cleanness. His vest was firmly worn and the storage pockets held the scrolls with his equipment. His signature dark gloves covered his hands. His brown eyes peered forth passively from underneath his bandana; A grim silent sentinel.

The students turned their heads to see what had caught the headmistress's attention. At the sight of the Chunin an excited whispering broke forth and they all craned their heads to get a look at the rare spectacle.

Shiro regarded the eager faces apathetically. The day was finally here. He would be leaving this Academy for England. Subconsciously he clenched his jaw as he thought about the ulterior part of his mission. Would he find anything in England that betrayed Orochimaru's presence?

Maxime cleared her throat and continued with the list. Loud applause arose when Fleur's name was called. The Veela stood up and moved to the front with the other candidates, her face radiant with a smile of joy. As she walked, her eyes sought those of Shiro. He stared blankly back for a moment before averting them. Her rapture faded slightly. When Annabelle's name was announced it faded even more. Jealously flared up when she saw him smile in congratulations. It wasn't that she held any romantic thoughts for him. She was used to being the center of desire amongst the male population and having him pass her by in favor of someone she disliked was a major blow to her pride.

'Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.'

Did he really mean that? Was his friendliness towards Moreau's daughter just a ploy? Fleur didn't know what to believe with her guard. Changeability cloaked him like a dark vaporous mass that always shifted and she couldn't decide which part of him was real. The collected blasé individual he was with her or the friendly persona towards Annabelle.

She couldn't deny though since his arrival her relationship with Annabelle had improved considerably. Did she dare use the word, she would almost say they were friends of sorts. Annabelle's frequent mocking statements had decreased to the point of nonexistence. The girl had actually taken to treating her kindly. Fleur had at first scorned the 'peace offerings' guard, but not wanting to seem as a grudging immature person in front of him, she took to returning the greetings and occasional compliments paid to her. To her surprise they sometimes engaged in conversation she found herself enjoying. Each time this happened she forced herself to remember that the girl was only doing this to get close to Shiro and that the current friendliness of their interaction was false.

Shiro listened attentively as the last name was called and then left the hall. He wandered out to where the carriage that was going to transport them was parked. Fly would be the better word, he thought, studying the magnificent stallions hitched to them. They were pure white with long gleaming wings and silky manes. He found Kotetsu already there under a Henge. Shiro flashed him a conspiratorial smile but refrained from speaking.

Under the curious stare of one of the winged steeds, Shiro looked at the report clutched in his hands. His jaw worked up and down as he considered the implications of Izumo's latest report. The assassin Izumo captured had died almost instantly during interrogation. Strange black symbols suddenly appeared and spread around his face. Investigation into this revealed an unknown seal planted at the nape of his neck. Further study showed that it had been crafted with both magic and chakra. Someone with shinobi knowledge was working with this group of wizards. A rogue shinobi? Or… Shiro preferred not to imagine that scenario just yet. Not until he had further information.

Shiro turned his slightly as he felt another familiar presence approach.

"Inikaze," Maxime said as she stopped alongside him. "It looks like you are both ready. If only my students could learn to prepare in advance."

"You are being too demanding," Shiro said mildly. "For how could they know if they would get picked? But you came seeking me for a reason. What is it?"

Maxime looked down at the report still crumpled in his hand. "I think you know. The news just arrived. Five dead people were found inside Delacour's mansion grounds. Neighbors are claiming they heard massive explosions that flashed brighter than the sun. The men were all found with fatal physical injuries and a strange marking on the back of their necks. Only one person I can name who could be responsible for this: Your teammate in Paris."

Shiro stayed silent and gazed ahead. "What else?" he said at last.

"The Wizarding state is in an uproar as you can well imagine. The Magical Authorities are launching inquiries and so far it has been said that these deceased men were part of the pureblood cultist group that has been harassing half-blooded and muggleborn citizens." Maxime shook her head, "now that they have risen to murder and tried no less to end the life of our new Minister, the Magical Authorities have finally begun acting. Delacour has declared that any member of this group if caught is to be sentenced to life imprisonment."

"Delacour is too soft," Shiro murmured.

"What then do you think is a suitable punishment for them?"

"I think you know," Shiro echoed Maxime's earlier words.

"You speak of killing so easily," Maxime said stiffly, "I can only assume you've killed before and no few times to speak of it so casually."

"How long will it take till we get to England?"

"Was it your teammate?"

"Yes."

"What kind of group are you," Maxime murmured in wondrous disgust.

"A group that accomplishes its missions efficiently. Delacour would be dead if it wasn't for my partner."

"It will be a whole day till we arrive in England. Tell your friend to mount the carriage. The students will be here shortly." And with sharp turnabout Maxime left.

"Did you hear that old man?" Shiro said teasingly.

"I did. Thank Kami Zu-Zu sent us these magical translators." With some trepidation Kotetsu approached the horses and climbed into the carriage box.

The translators were charmed necklaces that Izumo had obtained and mailed with his latest report. Shiro found it immeasurably valuable. He could now understand the conversations throughout Beauxbatons and none suspected otherwise.

Shiro mentally recalled his list and patted himself over. Satisfied that everything had been packed into his scrolls he joined Kotetsu in the driver's seat and waited. Presently the voices and tramping of the whole of Beauxbaton's body came pouring out into the open grounds of the Academy. Many were holding papers and talking with hushed excitement but all fell silent and attentive when Maxime strode out followed by the twenty chosen. Shiro discerned Fleur's anxious face and Annabelle walking besides her in a comforting fashion.

"Shiro," The Veela stopped momentarily at the carriage door. Her mouth opened and broken note of a sentence tumbled out before she snapped it closed. She looked so worried that for a moment Shiro felt the need to comfort her. Fleur instead gave him a strained smile and entered the carriage followed by Annabelle who also flashed him a smile. Shiro frowned internally. The Moreau girl displayed genuine concern towards Fleur. He could see it in her demeanor and bearing. That was a greatly surprising fact.

Besides him Kotetsu's breathing grew tense and the ninja braced himself as the horses neighed and pawed impatiently at the ground. A might shout of farewell rose from the spectators when the door closed and a magical signal sent the horses charging forward towards the waterfall. Shiro held his breath as they approached the drop-off and then with a mighty leap the steeds were in the air.

It was an exhilarating feeling to feel the wind rushing against them with enough force to pin them in their seats. The rush of air and weightlessness brought to the forefront, memories of dashing through Konoha's great forest. Only this time he was on a flying carriage way up in the sky.

Once the horses had set a steady bearing the flight turned serene. It was like a dream; floating endlessly among the clouds whose shapes and mass made it seem like they were in another land. Time vanished in this hypnotic scenery and for they floated along for what seemed like eternity until suddenly Shiro noticed they were not among the clouds any longer and the sky was darkening. He blinked confusedly wondering if he had lost consciousness when he saw a dark castle on a cliff fast approaching. A form far below that steadily grew larger as the horses approached waved them in.

Shiro hurriedly shook Kotetsu. The other ninja quickly snapped to attention with blurry look.

"We're landing," Shiro said shortly as the man directing them in was forced to dive aside to avoid the carriage.

The carriage gave a light thump and the horses came to a graceful stop.

Shiro leaped down and paused momentarily in surprise at seeing the man who had directed them in. He was nearly the size of Maxime and much broader. An immense beard and shaggy hair hid most of his face.

"Howdy there," The man greeted him jovially.

Shiro ignored him as he turned his head towards the castle. They had landed very close to the building on flat strip and students could be seen at every window watching them.

The carriage door opened and Maxime stepped out with all the dignity and stateliness of her position. The rest of the delegation followed her.

The male half-giant seemed tongue-tied at her presence and at last managed to stutter: "M-my name's Hagrid Ru- Rubeus Hagrid. Welcome to Hogwarts… I, Professor Dumbledore will-"

At that moment the great lake that lay in front of the castle erupted and Shiro watched with keen interest as a ship burst forth from the depths.

"Thank you Hagrid. Will you please take care of my horses. They have had a long flight. I will make my way to the castle."

"Aye, yes of course."

Maxime approached Shiro who stood gazing at the lake. "I must prepare my students for our introductory ceremony and that will include you." She noted his gaze. "Those are the Dumstrangs. Their leader is Igor Karkaroff. A man I wouldn't trust."

"Pardon me," Shiro replied, "I will not be participating in whatever flowery shenanigans you are planning."

Maxime couldn't help giving a smile. "You are part of my group and must follow but you are free to simply walk behind us if you so wish."

"That is better." Shiro cast a look towards Kotetsu who stood by unsure. Maxime understood.

"He will come with us."

The two shinobi fell into step side by side. A young lad and a wrinkled old man hobbling along on his cane. Shiro peered at the castle in front. He was finally here.


	10. Nightly Doings

When the great doors of Hogwarts opened and the vivacious girls of Beauxbatons waltzed in, barely anybody gave a glance towards the two individuals trailing behind the group. All eyes were on the girls, especially one blond Veela who ended the entry ceremony with a graceful bow. The Hogwarts students applauded heartily and hardly a glance was bestowed on the boy and old man that trailed behind and positioned themselves a few feet away. And before any could take notice of them the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, announced the entry of Dumstrang and all eyes flew towards the doors once again.

Shiro observed the entrance of the Dumstrang students with approval. Compared to Beauxbatons act, it was sharp and with little flair. He had felt like face vaulting at the sight of the Beauxbaton girls cooing and gesturing to the audience.

He crossed his arms and looked about the hall. It lacked the elegance he had seen in Beauxbatons; Just bare stone with torches and four fluttering banners that represented the different houses of the Hogwarts.

"And now let us not delay the rumblings of our stomachs," Dumbledore was saying. He beamed at the assembly before him. "If our guests will select which table they wish to dine at we can begin the feast." With some muttered words the empty platters and bowls suddenly bore an abundance of rich food. Shiro blinked in surprise. He could sense Kotetsu drooling beside him and smiled inwardly.

After some quick murmuring the parties of Dumstrang and Beauxbaton headed to the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables respectively.

"There you are Shiro," Annabelle took his arm and tugged him playfully, "Do you know you are a rare sight?"

Shiro took his eyes of Dumbledore and for a moment gazed coolly at the girl in front of him. Then he rapidly masked it and gave her a smile that made her heart quiver delightfully.

"Do forgive me," he said as Annabelle led him towards the Gryffindor table. "I don't particularly enjoy mixing with the crowd. It makes me uneasy."

"Is that why you hardly show yourself?" Not expecting an answer, Annabelle halted and surveyed the table. The Gryffindor students had made enough room for the Beauxbatons but the whole scene was too public. She looked at Shiro who stood seemingly uncaring but a minute glint of distaste was visible in his eyes.

"Let's eat outside. Wouldn't that make you feel better?" she added at his questioning look.

"It would."

"What do you like eat?" Annabelle asked as grabbed a large plate and began depositing various eatables onto it.

Shiro stared rather uncertainly at the mountain of food in front of him. Everything was so rich and fattening. As a shinobi he was accustomed to lean eating. Now confronted with this heap of foreign food he was at a loss on what to pick. Annabelle giggled at him.

"I'll pick for you then."

Shiro opened his mouth to protest but stopped. He watched as she picked a small plate for him and filled it carefully with a modest amount of vegetables and a thin piece of roasted beef. A small baked potato went on top.

"Here you go," Annabelle said as she handed him his plate.

Shiro accepted it with surprise at her selection. It wasn't much and just enough to be filling. It suited him perfectly. He gave her a suspicious look.

"You seem to know my tastes too well."

Annabelle smiled as she took her own plate. "You are obviously not a big eater or you wouldn't have stood undecided so long even if confronted with unfamiliar food. And I know somewhat of your preferences from the cooks at Beauxbatons."

"You talked to the cooks about what I eat?" Shiro stated in a hardly impressed tone.

"You never appeared for meals. Not even once during the month you spent at Beauxbatons. I was curious about you." Was the reply.

Shiro looked back to see how Kotetsu was managing. The disguised ninja was seated beside Madame Maxime at the teacher's table. He at least seemed to be comfortable and was busily engaged in attending to his stomach. Shiro gave him a slight nod before turning around. Dozens of pairs of eyes followed him and Annabelle as they left the hall.

"I've never seen a wizard dress like him before," Hermione Granger murmured as she watched their departure. "Did you see his clothes? They remind me of…"

"A muggle soldier?" Harry Potter offered.

"That's it," Hermione exclaimed. "His apparel resembles a military uniform. Those pants and green vest. Was that actually a bullet proof vest?" Hermione half sat-up in her eagerness.

"What's a bullet proof vest?" Someone nearby asked.

Hermione made no answer. She was too busy dissecting the ball of clues. Harry turned to explain.

"Did you see that holster around his leg? Did that hold-"

"He was not carrying a gun Hermione," Harry interrupted. "I doubt Dumbledore would allow that anyhow. It was way smaller than a gun holster and closed at the top."

"Why has he got bandages around his leg?" Ronal Weasely asked. "That chap's weird."

"He's wearing gloves too with some kind of metal on them," Neville Longbottom joined in.

"And what kind of person wears that sort of headwear?"

"It's called a bandana Ron," Harry said, "A muggle invention."

Outside of the Great Hall Shiro took a deep breath of the night air with relish. The sky was clear and the moon winked merrily at the two far below it. The Great Hall was a building separated from the rest of the castle. To reach it, one had to walk across a long bridge that connected to the main area of the castle. Here at the cornerstone of the bridge, Shiro and Annabelle made themselves comfortable.

"The night really is delightful," Shiro murmured. His plate lay forgotten as he surveyed the landscape. Annabelle abandoned her food to join him.

"My mother used to take me out for moonlight walks when I was younger," the girl said. I would stay awake each night waiting for her to open the door with that mischievous smile and then we would hurry out into the moonlight giggling as if we were guilty of something." The gentle smile of remembrance was clouded with sorrow.

"Such a sad smile," Shiro noted, "Your mother is no longer with you I take it?"

Annabelle shook her head. "She died giving birth to my sister. My mother's death was like a dagger going through my heart. I hated my sister for it. Every time I saw her, I was reminded of what was lost to give her life. I knew that I was being a fool but I loved my mother so much that I couldn't let go of my bitterness. I needed someone to blame."

Annabelle's hand moved to grasp Shiro's. The young Chunin half turned in surprise.

"This ended in sorrow am I not mistaken?"

Annabelle looked down at the ground. When she raised her head again, Shiro saw tears glistening like pale crystals in the moonlight.

"My sister loved me. She was always trying to be with me and imitate what I did. I tried to be nice but she noticed something was wrong and her company grew less and less. She would often gaze at me sadly and I could see in her eyes that she was bewildered. Part of me twisted in guilt but the other was stronger." Annabelle had to stop for a moment. The painful memory constricted her throat. Her hold on Shiro's fingers tightened to the point where he began wincing.

Recovering herself Annabelle took a shuddering breath and continued in a slower tone. "Then came the day where I was given the decision of whether my sister would live or die. We were out walking together and saw an old bridge across a racing river. My sister ran onto it giggling and climbed the rails. I saw that the wood was weak but I said nothing and then a horrible snap echoed through my mind followed by my sister screaming my name. And then she was gone. He-her body… was-" Annabelle fell silent unable to continue. Soft sobbing broke forth. Shiro regarded her for a long moment before pulling the surprised girl to him and wrapping his arms around her. He was surprised at himself but chose to ignore it for the moment. Annabelle accepted the comforting embrace hungrily. Her arms held him tightly and her face was buried into his vest. Shiro briefly stared up at the moon above. 'I'm nothing but a killer wearing a kind face but even someone like me can be allowed to provide some comfort can't it?' he said silently to the sky. If there was an answer he never heard it. Instead he pulled of his gloves and stroked the soft curls snuggled into his chest.

Her crying gradually lessened and Shiro pulled back slightly and tilted her head to face him.

"Feeling better?" he asked with a small smile.

Annabelle drew away embarrassed at herself and wiped her face. "Hardly. I will always be haunted by that moment but I'm glad you were here."

"That was a very personal story. Too personal for someone you barely know."

"I like you Shiro. I'm afraid more than I should. You make me feel comfortable, like I can trust you."

Shiro barely kept himself from laughing mockingly at that. 'Ignorance is bliss. So true in this case' he thought pityingly.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," he quoted warningly.

"Are you saying you aren't good?"

"We all have our dark secrets Annabelle," he answered. "And mine are darker than most."

Annabelle was silent, uncertain and not knowing what to make of his words.

"My mother has also left me," Shiro said suddenly breaking the silence that had gently covered them. "Can you imagine how it felt to return home after years of absence full of hope only to discover she had died? I suppose that was my punishment for leaving the village. I fulfilled my desire for adventure but lost my mother in the process."

"You shinobi live such harsh lives," a strange voice spoke.

Shiro spun about. There stood Albus Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," Shiro refrained from growling. "How nice of you to join our company on this lovely night."

"The night holds such sway for passion," Dumbledore remarked with twinkling eyes. "I must offer an old man's apologies for interrupting the play of youths."

Annabelle looked away embarrassed but Shiro stared the aged wizard in the eye. The latter was unfazed with the threatening gaze.

"I'm glad you came Headmaster." Shiro said and beckoned down the bridge. "I have a greeting from an old friend, won't you walk with me?"

"Of course my boy."

"Eat your dinner and don't wait for me," Shiro said to Annabelle. He turned about and then glanced back questioningly. The wizard fell into step with him.

"I really don't you appreciate throwing out the name of my kind Headmaster," Shiro said after they were out of earshot.

"Forgive a forgetful old man. It has been far too long since I last had a shinobi walk my halls. How is Sarutobi doing?"

"As well as someone in his position can be," Shiro answered. He stopped and pulled a scroll from one of his vest pockets. His fingers brushed across the symbols drawn on the material until they settled on a particular one. He bit his thumb and swiped the blood across the seal and beautifully carved wooden box popped into existence.

"Sarutobi sends his greetings."

He watched with curiosity as the wizard took the box and opened it. Inside was a letter and a- were those packages of Wagashi? Shiro blinked. The Hokage had him delivering sweets?

"Ahh, Daifuku," Dumbledore exclaimed delightedly as he opened one of the small packages. "One of my favorite deserts from your culture." He offered one of the sweet rice cakes which Shiro declined.

"Yes indeed," Dumbledore murmured slowly savoring the taste, "It has been far too long but as a favor to my old friend… here."

Shiro took the rolled parchment Dumbledore had just produced cautiously.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A map to help you,"

"Map?" Shiro questioned. He unrolled it. It was a map of the region surrounding Hogwarts. He looked up at Dumbledore who was murmuring delightedly at the sweets. "What exactly is this for?"

"Your mission."

"My mission? My mission is to protect Miss Delacour. A crinkled piece of paper is not-"

"Your real mission," Dumbledore interrupted. Shiro fell silent. Something unpleasant was creeping through him at the Headmaster's words. "What do you mean exactly?"

"Come my dear boy. Sarutobi told me about your mission. He gave you a choice. To investigate if that former ninja of your village is behind the strange happenings that have recently been occurring or to avoid it."

Shiro twisted his jaw as Dumbledore's words struck true. It was true and both the Hokage and him knew that he would inevitably follow anything that led to Orochimaru. All the same he tried to deny it.

"You know I can't just leave matters here," Shiro said cautiously.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him. "Your friend can look after things."

Shiro straightened. "So the Hokage told you that as well."

"You ninja hide yourselves so well. I would have been unable to tell who your companion was had you not stood so close together. It was too obvious. Now I am sure I have given you enough to think about. Go and enjoy your dinner with that charming young lady."

"These marked areas," Shiro's voice stopped the Headmaster as he was walking away. "Are these the places where people have been disappearing?"

"Yes. The Ministry has been unwilling to do anything about it. They say that a few people lost in the remote areas is not worth the trouble of sending Aurors to investigate. Your Hokage knew your true feelings but you still have the choice of letting it go."

Shiro chuckled mirthlessly. "That choice is just a deceitful illusion."

"Regardless of your feelings, you know you can decide to remain."

"I know," Shiro nodded his head and tucked the map away. "I know…" he repeated again and fell silent. After a moment of observation Dumbledore walked off leaving the young shinobi lost in his thoughts.

"Shiro?"

Startled, Shiro looked up to see Annabelle watching him concerned.

"Are you alright?"

"What are you doing here?" Shiro said, "I thought you were eating."

"I came because you were standing there long after the Headmaster left. Shiro what did he say to you?"

"Nothing much. Just some unpleasant news from my association that handles mission contracts," Shiro smiled at her but it felt empty. "Nothing to be concerned about."

Annabelle stared at him for a moment then reached out and cupped his cheek. Shiro restrained himself from leaning back at the touch. "I can tell you aren't being truthful. Do you even see your face right now? It's full of tension."

Shiro blinked and struggled to adopt a neutral expression. His training kicked in and the mask he wore so often fell smoothly back into place. "Everything is fine." He stated smoothly.

Annabelle felt a chill at the expression and tone. His pleasant features were the same, his tone light and smooth but the change was so sudden it was unnatural. She realized nothing would be gained by pressing so she smiled and took him by the hand. "Let's eat then. My food has gotten cold thanks to you."

"Me?" Shiro retorted. "I told you not to wait."

"Well pardon me for being a lady,"

"Yes you are pardoned."

Annabelle laughed and the two resumed their seats. Shiro was back to his pleasant self but Annabelle could not help feel that it was faked. She studied him often throughout the meal hoping to find a crack that would confirm her suspicions but there was none. Often Shiro returned her gaze with one of his own that bore a slyness as if he knew what she was doing.

Shiro finished first and leaned back. He looked at Annabelle's still large remains.

"Shouldn't you be concerned with your weight?"

He suppressed a chuckle as she glared at him. "I'll have you know Shiro that it is highly impolite to comment on a girl's figure." Annabelle shot back.

Footsteps caught their attention. Shiro looked towards the sound and wanted to groan. Fleur Delacour was approaching with her own platter. The Veela marched up and took a seat beside them.

"Miss Delacour," Shiro greeted.

"Hello Flooey," Annabelle cooed with a teasing smile that Fleur returned. Shiro watched the two girls interact with interest. "Was the company too much for you?"

Fleur groaned exasperatedly. "All the boys were staring at me. It was too much."

"You will be here for a whole year, I suggest you get used to it." Shiro remarked.

"Oh is that your only reason for coming out here?" and Annabelle waggled her brows suggestively. Fleur gave her a glare and Shiro felt it was time to leave but sadly he had no valid reason.

"Of course," Fleur responded haughtily.

"Mmm hmm," Annabelle hummed with one eye closed and the other fixed on the Veela. Fleur stared back stoically and at some hidden signal both girls broke into chuckles. The meal proceeded with a lightness that relieved the young ninja. The personal intimate atmosphere of before had unsettled him deeply. He frowned as he pondered on his earlier actions. Why did he comfort Annabelle? He would be lying if he said it was to continue deceiving the girl. He had felt actual pity. A feeling that came so rarely to him nowadays. Why? What did she remind him of? A finger flicked him on the forehead.

"You will get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that," Fleur remarked. Shiro looked at her then at Annabelle who was studying him again. Their plates were empty. It was time to leave. He stood up and stretched before collecting his platter.

"The feast should nearly be over by now don't you think? I'm heading back."

As he walked away he heard Fleur begin interrogating Annabelle. A slight smile crossed his face and disappeared again as his free hand reached up to feel where the map was placed away. What was he going to do?


	11. A Fork In The Road

AU: It's been a fair bit of time since I posted again. I know authors like to say this and then fail to deliver, but regardless the length I may take to post a new chapter, I haven't forgotten this story and I will finish it. I'm just busy with other things.

* * *

Kotetsu found him staring out a window overlooking Hogwarts. The corridor was deserted allowing the brash ninja to shed his much detested disguise. With a sigh of pleasure, he leaned himself against the wall next to his friend.

"I'm worried about you Shiro," Kotetsu said somberly. Shiro gave a slight smile as his gaze remained fixed on the great lake whose surface sparkled and gleamed like shimmering mirrors.

"You two always worry about me."

"And we have good reason to this time!" Kotetsu snapped. The ninja pushed himself off the wall in his frustration. "Curse the Hokage!" He snarled punching the stone wall while Shiro raised an eyebrow. "That wily old deceitful goat of a professor!"

Shiro gave a brief a chuckle. "Treasonous words Ko. Are you really surprised? We're all ninja, it is our nature to deceive. I think we all knew this mission was a farce, but at least he gave me a choice."

"What choice?" Kotetsu scoffed. "That map has been tearing you apart."

Shiro laughed bitterly. "I thought I was over that bastard traitor. I know otherwise now. I'm like shark that just stumbled upon a blood trail."

"And the Hokage knew that." Kotetsu sighed and turned to fix his friend with a weary gaze. "Are you actually going?"

Shiro didn't answer immediately. His eyes roved dully over the lake's surface. Then like a lock snapping into place, he suddenly straightened. Kotetsu looked away sadly. "So you are going."

"Sorry Ko," Shiro smiled grimly. "I've been at war with myself for the past three days. My mind says to just ignore everything else and complete this mission and return home safely. My emotions say otherwise and they've triumphed."

"A ninja never has emotion…" Kotetsu murmured slowly. "Just what idiot made that up?"

A moment of silence and then both of them shared a laugh. Kotetsu moved to give his friend a tight embrace. "I know you can handle yourself but…"

Shiro rolled his eyes. "Ko, the chance of me actually encountering Orochimaru is close to none. I just need some closure… some peace after all these years. Perhaps I can find it. I should be back within a fortnight."

"If you're not, I'm coming to find you."

"No you'll stay and complete this mission," Shiro ordered firmly. "Delacour paid no small sum for protection. The village needs this money."

Kotetsu gritted his teeth while his hands clenched by his side. Shiro moved to lay a hand on his shoulder. "You and Izumo are the closest people I have apart from Naruto," he said gently. "But you can't go on living expecting your friends to always be there. We're shinobi, dying should be in our job description. If I don't return, I'm just another to fall in the field. Mourn for me but move forward."

Shiro stepped away and slid his fingers under his left-hand glove. He pulled down the fabric until his wrist was exposed. Then he slashed the smooth exposed vein and let the blood pool across the stone floor. "Blood clone jutsu," he murmured. The blood swirled then swarmed together into one ever expanding mass that rose up mimicking the human form until a perfect duplicate of Shiro stood in its place.

Shiro looked at his clone satisfied. "I've given him more blood and chakra than I usually do. He should last long enough to keep up appearances here. Goodbye Ko."

Shiro's clone wrapped an arm around the shaggy haired shinobi. "We're going to have a lot of fun together, Ko."

"Goodbye sounds so final…" Kotetsu muttered staring at the retreating form of his friend. The clone gave him a slight shake and Kotetsu looked sourly at him. It just wasn't the same.

The halls and corridors were mostly deserted. It was midday and the students were out enjoying their rest in the sunny grass fanned by the gentle wind. Shiro stopped at a corner and pulled the map from his vest. He studied the locations keenly and decided upon the village of Dustinforth. From information he had gathered prior, it was a large village situated near some mountains. The inhabitants lived in apparent harmony with the vampire clans situated in the mountains. Shiro lowered the map and gazed thoughtfully at the stone wall in front of him. Vampires; creatures of human appearance that fed on blood to live. The thought drew his attention to his wrist.

With a slight huff of annoyance he raised his wrist. It was still bleeding and the blood had sunk into his glove giving the areas it touched a reddish hue. The raven colour of the material mostly hid it.

Focusing his chakra for a simple healing jutsu, Shiro passed his glowing right hand over the cut. Minuscule tendrils of flesh latched together from both sides until they were whole and the skin flowed over restoring his wrist to normal.

He flexed his wrist then pulled the glove smartly over it. With his fingers still attached, he stared at the black covering. His eyes softened in torment. Blood could be washed off but like a ghost, the essence still lingered and his hands were full of it. Shiro shook off his moment of guilt. He was a shinobi, it was his life. It was not a time to succumb to sentimentality.

He was surprised as he rounded a corner and saw Fleur sitting on a bench in the hall several yards down. Shiro swiftly withdrew back around the corner for a moment of observation. The Veela was reading a book but from her languid posture, it was halfhearted. Her flawless face was jaded and filled with emotions Shiro was well familiar with. He approached adding a touch more force to his normally quiet steps. The Veela looked up to see who was coming. Her expression lightened and she lay down her book and leaned forward, her cerulean eyes tracking him with keen attention.

"Good Afternoon, Shiro."

"I'd hardly call this stifling heat a good afternoon," Shiro responded coming to a stop.

"It is terribly hot right now," Fleur agreed. Droplets of sweat hung tenuously to her skin. "When I first arrived it felt so cold and I longed for the warm regions of France but this, this is not what I wished for."

"In that case, why aren't you outside with the others? The wind cannot cool these halls."

Fleur leveled him with a pointed gaze before her expression grew sultry. "Shirrroo," she purred as she arched her back and slowly lifted her arms to sensually brush her face and hair. Shiro promptly looked away with a heated face.

"I understand," he said flatly. "Your Veela aura."

Fleur laughed and brushed her face once more to clear it of moisture. "I enjoy your reactions. It is adorable."

Shiro raised his brow slightly and turned towards the Veela. "Adorable?" he stated and after a moment's thought, gave a grim chuckle. "Not a word I would use for myself. You don't have friends do you?" He added with a fixed gaze. Instantly Fleur's face lost its luster.

"I haven't had anybody I could call a friend," Fleur admitted. "The boys only want me for my beauty and the girls despise me for taking away their potential boyfriends." Fleur laughed disdainfully. "I wouldn't even think of touching those weak minded pigs. It hurts me. My Veela heritage is a curse. I've been alone because of it. Family can only bring you so much."

Shiro regarded the girl attentively. He noted her crestfallen eyes despite the haughty façade; those hungry blue eyes, unhappy and yearning for companionship. "Naruto…" he murmured softly. He blinked as he regained focus. Fleur didn't seem to have caught his slip. I'm becoming a softhearted mess aren't I? Shiro thought ruefully as he took a seat beside the Veela. Fleur looked at him in some surprise.

"Are you getting bold with me Inikaze?"

Shiro ignored the teasing comment though his ears heated. "You will find somebody who can look past that. It needs time. There was a boy back in my homeland. He was an outcast shunned by the whole population for something he carried through no fault of his own. He lived alone, surviving on the kindness of a few who had enough sense to look past his burden. I saw him one day while I was buying some food. The store owner overcharged him and when the boy protested, the man grabbed him and threw him out onto the street."

"What a way to treat someone," Fleur said indignantly.

Shiro hummed absently as the memory of that moment flowed vividly through his mind.

"Hey can I go first? I got only these packs of ramen." Shiro looked down over his armload of groceries at the boy staring up at him. Golden spikey hair and three whisker marks on both cheeks. It was the Kyuubi container. Interesting; he heard about the boy but this was his first time seeing him.

Shiro waved his head towards the counter. "Thanks, emo-san!" His lips twitched slightly at the nickname. Did he really give that impression? He watched as boy placed his meager purchases on the counter. The store owner's face grew steely but he silently sorted the goods before naming an exorbitant price.

"What? No way this ramen can cost so much," The boy cried out angrily.

"Filthy demons should keep their mouths shut," The man spat. He moved swiftly around the counter and grabbed the boy by his collar. "Get out of my store and don't come back!" The owner bodily hauled the boy to the open door and threw him into the street. Shiro watched silently as the boy picked himself up and glared at the faces staring at him.

"I'm not a demon!" he screamed angrily as tears pricked his eyes. He ran off down the street.

"Good for nothing brat." The owner muttered as he walked back to the counter. "Please pay that no mind shinobi-san."

Shiro deposited his purchases on the counter and as the man began sorting the items, he leaned forward conversationally. "Will you be overcharging me like that boy?"

"What? Of course not. That boy is a pest. Something that should never be alive."

Shiro smiled and momentarily dropped his gaze. When he looked back up, his eyes were icy. "Have you forgotten the Hokage's law?" Shiro inquired. At the man's stammered answer he continued, "I am well within my right to kill you right now."

The owner moved away slowly, a hand partially raised in fear. "Sh-shinobi-san, please. Forgive me. I wasn't in my right mind."

"You were clearly in your right mind." Shiro chuckled humorlessly. "Answer this question. What has that boy done to you?"

The owner opened and closed his mouth several times. Beads of sweat trickled down his face as he glanced pleadingly at the other patrons for help but they were all giving the pair a wide berth.

"I'm waiting," Shiro said in a frighteningly calm voice.

"Nothing," the man admitted quietly. His head was bowed in fear.

Shiro hummed and tapped the counter. "Pack my things and give me the bill." The man slowly raised his head in confusion. At Shiro's questioning look, he hurried to complete the request. "I'll take that ramen as well." He watched the owner deposit the dried noodles into the brown paper bag. Shiro paid and hefted the bag into the crook of his arm.

"I'll keep your slip from the Hokage if you will treat that boy like a normal customer from now." He looked back at the subdued man. "Do we have an agreement?" The man nodded silently. Satisfied Shiro left. Out in the street he thoughtfully removed one of the ramen packages. Tomorrow he would see about befriending the boy.

In the present Fleur was watching him waiting for the story to continue, but the Chunin was staring absently at nothing. "What about this boy?" she asked when he remained silent.

"He reminded me of you. Both alone in the world for something you have no power over. And… you both have the same eyes."

Fleur blinked surprised. "What happened to him?" A smile broke on Shiro's face and Fleur found herself drawn to it. It was one of the rare times she had seen his genuine smile, displaying happiness and affection. Shiro didn't answer but unzipped his vest. Fleur craned her head curiously as Shiro reached for a small pocket on the underside, and removed a stack of photographs carefully preserved in a sheet of plastic.

Shiro hummed softly as he opened the plastic and leafed through his collection. He withdrew one picture and held it out. Fleur took it slowly. "You look so happy…" She murmured.

Shiro gave her a dry look and held out his hand. "The focusing point wasn't me."

Fleur smiled at him. "It's a side of you I haven't seen." She ignored the gloved hand holding itself patiently in the air, and continued gazing at the picture. The scene showed Shiro facing the camera and smiling. Hugging his back was a blond boy of perhaps eight. The boy had his face over Shiro's shoulder and was nuzzling him while waving his hand in the camera's direction.

Fleur at last handed the picture back. She watched disappointedly as he grouped it and began wrapping the stack. "May I see the others?" Shiro paused, before thumbing through and removing another.

"This is the last one you are permitted to see."

Fleur took it eagerly and after a moment burst into musical laughter. In the shot, Shiro was sprawled in bed, his eyes were rolled up and his mouth slightly open. Holding him upright was the blonde boy from the previous photograph. Two more curious looking individuals sat on either side of Shiro's unconscious form. They both wore the same green vest and dark clothes. All three were grinning foxily at the camera and making various gestures. But it was the outrageous paint and scribbles drawn on Shiro's face that prompted her laughter. Her guard looked like an utter fool.

She handed the picture back still smiling. Shiro took it without expression and tucked his precious collection away once more. "That was the first and only time they were able to slip a sleeping drug into my food." He stated as he zipped his vest.

Fleur laughed again. "You have looked after that boy."

"I adopted him. He's like a little brother to me."

"What did he carry that made him an outcast?"

"That I cannot discuss," Shiro said as he stood up ready to leave, but Fleur's next words made him halt.

"You clearly love him. Why do you take these jobs then?"

Shiro turned towards the Veela. His brown eyes surveyed her questioningly.

"I don't know the danger you face with what you do," Fleur said, an inquisitive frown on her delicate brow. "If you love him, why do you not find an occupation that does not put you in harm's way? Something that allows you to stay by his side."

Shiro was silent for a moment as he rapidly examined her points. "I could," he admitted. "but it is not as simple as you make it to be. I am what I am, and he knows that and fully accepts that one day I will be killed on a mission."

Fleur gave him a sharp look. "Wha-" she began then stopped and continued, "Then take the jobs that present the least amount of harm."

Shiro turned away from her. The least harm, he thought grimly. His feelings clashed against each other. He desperately wanted vengeance on the Snake Sannin for ruining his childhood. It was a thorn in his side which he managed to ignore over the years, but now with a possible lead in his hands, it tore into him with even greater strength. And yet, though the Sannin ruined his early life, he had found friends and a new family. Life was as comfortable for him as it could be for a shinobi. Why was he throwing this away in pursuit of something long in the past?

Fleur watched her guard attentively. He was a puzzle she slowly tried to piece over every interaction, but the way he constantly shifted his disposition, threw what she gathered into disarray. It was like he wore an ever changing set of masks. He suddenly looked towards her with his usual courteous smile, something she was beginning to detest. It wasn't real.

"Thank you, Miss Delacour. Excuse me; I need to prepare a letter."

Shiro turned and vanished down the hall leaving Fleur staring after him.


	12. The Goblet Choses

Shiro grimaced as pain lanced through his head. Another burst and he was forced to stop. With one hand he covered his forehead and looked through hazy eyes at the objective of his mission, his excuse for staying.

To Kotetsu's delight, and amusement as he had never changed his mind so quickly, Shiro had elected to stay and continue the role of being Fleur Delacour's bodyguard. Fleur's words about unnecessarily putting himself into harm's way had eaten away at him. Coming to grips with his emotions, he instead composed a letter in which he included Dumbledore's map and information and sent this to the Hokage reminding him of his order that Delacour's assignment was to take priority.

Now here he was walking in the sun after the Veela within one of Hogwart's many courtyards. Fleur was striding ahead not having noticed her guard had stopped. Shiro removed his hand and briefly closed his eyes. The pain had abated somewhat. He opened them again to see Fleur seat herself on a stone bench with Annabelle at her side. The latter looked up and waved at him.

Shiro forced himself to smile and waved back. He let his hand fall and gazed pensively at the girls. Fleur and Annabelle had clearly become good friends, and Shiro found himself smiling slightly at the sight of them with their heads together at some text book. But was that a reason to remove Annabelle from his list of possible threats? If Moreau was to use his daughter to get to Fleur, would she comply? It was instinct for a child to lean towards obeying their parents. Another wave of pain flooded his mind and this time he groaned audibly. Giving the pair a brief a glance to see that they were comfortably settled, Shiro half-staggered to a tree nearby and collapsed against it.

"Kami, give me some peace," he muttered. He rummaged in his main pouch and brought forth a small bottle of pain killers. He unscrewed the cap and popped two pills into his mouth. He withdrew another bottle and downed four of the blue little pills. These were to alleviate his stress and calm his emotions. It was an overdose which the doctors warned him against, but it was the only way he could feel the effects.

"Kami!" Shiro ground out as he nearly blacked out from the next wave of pain. His back slipped from the tree and hit the ground. Nausea swarmed his senses. He clutched his stomach as he struggled to keep himself from vomiting. Thankfully no one was paying attention to him. Most of their focus was on the two girls or more specifically, Fleur Delacour. The Veela was still engrossed in her study session with Annabelle. Shiro propped himself against the tree once more and closed his eyes. It helped subdue the throbbing in his head. Kami, he needed sleep badly. His nights were as troubled as ever, but it was worsening. Why he had no idea. Perhaps it was homesickness. Back in the Shinobi Nations it had never gotten to the point where it began depriving him of enough sleep to be harmful.

"You're looking downright pathetic right now," a voice said in front of him.

"Oh Kami, go away!" Shiro promptly shot back without thought.

"Is this how a guard acts? Pulling faces like a clown." A burst of sniggers.

Shiro forced his eyes open to see three Hogwarts students standing in front of him. The green lining on their robes marked them as Slytherin. The foremost was a silvery blond boy with a taunting sneer on his face, no doubt the one who had spoken.

"What do you want?" Shiro said sharply. He was in no mood to deal with trouble seeking teens.

"Nothing. I just wanted to inform you how ridiculous you looked rolling on the ground and making faces." The blond replied.

"Is that all?" Shiro retorted. "What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy," was the proud reply.

"Kindly leave me alone, Draco. I'm in no state to deal with any of you." Shiro closed his eyes again with a grimace as his head flared up.

"What was her father thinking hiring you?"

Shiro made no reply. With his eyes shut, he instead focused his senses, waiting for any move that signaled hostility, there was none. With a parting jab, the trio walked away. It seemed there was no fun in taunting someone who didn't fight back.

Shiro briefly opened his eyes to see the boys heading towards Fleur and Annabelle. As he watched them, he reached for his bottle of painkillers again. Uncaring of the amount, he tapped tilted the bottle and tapped it against his palm and downed the amount that jumbled out. By now the boy who had insulted him was engaging in conversation with Fleur. Shiro was mildly impressed. It seemed the Veela aura had no effect on him. But he certainly was no charmer if Fleur's irritated expression was anything to go by.

As he began to screw the cap closed, blinding pain lanced throughout his head like sharp knives tearing into his flesh. With a pained cry, Shiro dropped to the ground. Breathing heavily he lifted himself on his knees and elbows. What was wrong with him? Gritting his mouth so tightly that his teeth began to sink into his lower lip drawing blood, Shiro tried to raise himself through the pain that was nearly overwhelming his mind. It was useless. He collapsed heavily into the warm grass. Voices and images flashed through his pain filled awareness. Hands grabbed him. With a shinobi's swiftness, his hand shot into his pouch and closed over a kunai. He slashed blindly at the enemy he saw so vividly. The cry of a girl went unheard. Then something struck him in the chest and he felt himself thrown along the ground. Darkness claimed him, but he was far from relief. The pain was gone, but the ghosts of his past deeds now rose to confront him with twisted grins.

A brown ceiling of stone welcomed him as his eyes opened. Shiro tiredly noted his surroundings. He was lying in a bed in a large room. It seemed like a small hall. There were many beds of the same making lying in neat rows.

Is this the hospital? He wondered. A barely felt shiver slithered along his frame. He detested hospitals. Hospitals reeked of blood and death. This was the place wounded shinobi died.

Shiro started as he noticed his vest was gone. His hands rapidly snapped to his waist, feeling all around. His main pouch was gone, so was his belt with all its attached holsters and secondary pouches. All his personal belongings had been removed from his body. Shiro glowered. It felt like his being had been violated.

His bare feet hit the cold stone floor as he hefted himself of the bed. He still felt sick, but at least he was able to move with relative ease now. There were noises coming from behind a door a short way down from his bed. As Shiro took a few steps forward, it opened and an elderly lady in a white apron appeared. She halted at the sight of him.

"Young man! What are you doing?"

"Learning to walk." Shiro replied. "Where are my things?" he asked with more sharpness than intended.

"You will return to bed at once. As for your things they are on my desk."

Shiro craned his neck looking past her into the room. It appeared to be a small study and there on the visible desk was his green vest.

"I'm fine, nurse. I don't require bed rest."

"You will call me Madam Promfrey. You were carried in unconscious with a burning fever which I succeeded in lowering, but you are far from recovered."

"Thank you, Madam. However since I'm able to move on my own, I think that qualifies as a check out."

"Certainly not."

"Madam Pomfrey, while I am grateful to you for taking care of me, I will not stay. Do you intend to force me?"

The nurse stared disbelieving at him before she huffed. "Such cheek. You are worse than some of the students I've had to cure. Fine, go ahead and get yourself out. I can't force you in any case." The elderly woman watched him as he walked past and into the other room.

Shiro practically fell upon his equipment. His hands went over each item with sharp concern. First he checked his vest. Each item stored in it, he crossed off his mental list. Next he checked his holsters and pouch. Everything was in place. Good. He slipped into his vest, feeling significantly more secure. Then he strapped on his utility belt and wrapped his bandages back around his legs before putting on his shinobi sandals. Lastly he wrapped his bandanna back over his head before slipping his black gloves over his hands. Satisfied that he was again fully in gear, he left the room. The nurse stopped him before he could leave.

"I expect you to return for checkups during the next few days. If you don't, I will find you."

"Persistent woman," Shiro muttered under his breath. "Why are you so concerned?" he asked aloud.

"It is my duty and I care." Was the stern reply. Promfrey handed to him two vials filled with an almost silvery liquid. Shiro took them curiously. "This is a dreamless sleep potion."

The Chunin looked up in surprise. "Dreamless sleep?" Shiro asked hopefully.

"You were jerking in your sleep and breathing erratically. Bad dreams like to loom when a body is weak. Half a vial each night will be enough. If you're still suffering from nightmares once you finish your supply," Pomfrey added with more gentleness than she had previously shown, "come and see me."

Shiro carefully tucked the vials away in his pouch. "Thank you," he said with feeling that was not lost Promfrey.

"Do you frequently have nightmares?" she asked brusquely.

"Yes." Shiro answered as he began to walk away.

"Come back tomorrow morning for a checkup," Promfrey called after him. Shiro looked back and nodded. If this potion worked, it was the least he could do in thanks.

The stone hallways of Hogwarts were deserted. Torches burned brightly on the walls, casting flickering shadows in corners and alcoves. A few lone ghosts flitted through the walls. The feast must still be going on, Shiro thought as he headed towards the Great Hall. There was an unnatural silence behind those closed doors when he arrived. Was the feast over?

"Harry Potter?" Dumbledore's voice rang out strongly from within.

Shiro paused a moment to listen.

"Harry Potter?" Dumbledore called out again.

Shiro gently pushed open one door and peered in. To his surprise, the Hall was mostly dark. The light being provided sparsely from a few torches, while at the far end before the teachers table, stood a pillar on which a goblet of blue fire shone. Everybody was looking and whispering at each other with confused expressions and raising their heads to look at something. Shiro entered and quietly shut the door behind him, but as it slowly closed, a creaking emanated. At the sound, the occupants turned to look at him, but looked away a moment later.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called for the third time with far greater force. A boy with messy black hair rose from one of the tables and shakily made his way forward towards the goblet. Whispers rose up all around. It sounded too much like the voices in his dreams.

"Shiro," Annabelle's familiar voice exclaimed happily. Shiro looked to see the blonde girl making her way rapidly towards him. He was discomfited when she reached him and threw her arms around him in an embrace. She drew back a moment later and stood smiling at with her hands still on his shoulders.

Shiro felt guilt pool inside him. And loathe as he was to admit it, he now felt a degree of affection for the girl. Initially he viewed her as a threat and a tool he could manipulate to match the situation. Her gradual change of character and genuine affection for him had slowly melted his perspective of her. This brought forth another complication. What was he to do? Shiro was no stranger to physical intimacy, but a girl being genuinely attracted to him was another matter. He was unsure on how to act. For now he merely smiled back.

"How are you feeling?" Annabelle inquired as her smile disappeared into a worried frown.

"My head still aches, but it is hardly noticeable."

"Is that all that's wrong with you?" Annabelle continued gently. "I saw the pills you dropped and more when the nurse removed your equipment in the hospital wing. I recognized some of it. Anti-Depressant, painkillers, sleeping medicine, I couldn't believe it. Are you so disturbed inside?"

"I don't wish to talk about it." Shiro answered uncomfortably. Last thing he wanted was an outsider prying into his life. "I said to you once that we all have dark secrets. I'm haunted daily by mine. That is all."

Annabelle was silent. She peered at him closely before relenting. "I won't push you on this matter, but you worried me greatly when you collapsed. The nurse said you had a high fever. You were also struggling as we carried you in."

"Did I hurt anyone?" Shiro asked as a particular moment from that memory sprang to mind.

Annabelle hesitated before answering slowly, "After you fell, Fleur and I rushed up and I grabbed you. You drew a short blade and slashed at me." Shiro stiffened. "You didn't hurt me," Annabelle hastened to say. "Fleur pulled me back the moment you reached behind your back. It was like she knew what to expect. Then she stunned you and we took you to the hospital wing. The nurse there diagnosed you with high fever and fatigue. You gave me a scare."

"I'm sorry," Shiro apologized. "It wasn't my intention to harm you."

"Tut, tut," Annabelle hushed him. "I'm just relieved to see you walking again. It was disturbing seeing you jerk around. Are you hungry?"

"Do you want to put me back in the hospital?"

The girl smiled. "Food will give you strength. Just take something light. Fleur and I were having this delightful beef soup."

"Thinking about it makes me want to faint." Shiro muttered. "What did I miss?"

"The selection of champions for the tournament," Annabelle replied taking him by the arm and leading him towards the spot where the Beauxbaton students sat. "Fleur was selected. I'm happy, but worried. People can die in the Triwizard tournament. It was the main reason the tournament was discontinued for two centuries."

"Discontinued that long because of the risk of death?" Shiro asked with a raised brow. Disdain crossed his features. He wanted to laugh at the softness these wizards. If the Triwizard was so hazardous, how would they rate The Forest of Death where eager Genin hunted each other over the course of three days to become Chunin.

"You disapprove?" Annabelle asked him with rebuke in her tones.

"It's not my place to judge," Shiro replied diplomatically. "My life has been at risk many times. You develop a toughness eventually. Do you know anything about the tournament goals?" He asked once they seated themselves. To his displeasure, Annabelle pushed a bowl of soup under his nose.

"I don't want to eat." Shiro protested, sounding like a petulant child. Annabelle ignored him and held a spoon to his lips.

"Open up."

"Do I-" Alas, Shiro should have kept his mouth closed. In went the spoon and the hot liquid was poured over his tongue. He was forced to swallow. It was good.

Annabelle smiled triumphantly at him. She filled the spoon and held it up a second time. "Say ahhhh"

Shiro took the spoon with a minor glare and hunched over the bowl in a defeated posture. He had to admit though that the pleasant taste and warmth made him feel better. Pleased at her accomplishment, Annabelle seated herself beside him.

"I know that the champions must complete three tasks," she continued once seated. "What these tasks are, I have no clue, and the champions won't be told until the last moment."

Shiro hummed. "So it falls to me then to discover these tasks."

"Include me also. Fleur is my friend. I want to see her get safely through this."

Shiro gave her a strange look, but there was something else he wanted to ask first. "Why was there such silence when the last champion was chosen?"

"Harry Potter? He wasn't supposed to have been chosen. By rule each school can only have one champion, and Hogwart's had already been selected."

"So he found a way to bypass the rules."

"I thought that as well," Annabelle admitted. "But the goblet is ancient magic. No student should have been able to confuse it. Only powerful dark magic could have done so."

Shiro was intrigued. If that was the case, what was the culprit's game. Could it relate to him? He promptly removed that thought. This was a wizard affair. He turned towards Annabelle intending to question the girl's friendliness towards someone her father had raised her to despise when the door at the end of the teachers table opened, and Albus Dumbledore walked out followed by the four champions.

The hall fell silent as the Headmaster raised his arms. "There is nothing we can do. One chosen, a magical contract is formed. The tournament will proceed with four champions."

The hall erupted in hushed murmuring. Shiro felt a twinge of pity as he looked at the raven haired boy who had been chosen as Hogwart's second champion. His sharp ears could detect the muttered accusations being spoken all around. Madam Maxime didn't look pleased and so was the bearded Headmaster of Dumstrang. The man looked positively furious.

Annabelle rose and moved to meet Fleur who heading towards them. The half-French girl gave the Veela a congratulatory hug which was returned. The two girls walked back to the table with bright smiles. Fleur was looking especially happy.

"I'm glad to see you can return to your duties," Fleur said with a pleased smirk. She adopted a gentler expression. "What happened with you?"

"I was sick and didn't realize it."

"It was more than that." Fleur's voice took a hard edge. "You almost killed Annabelle in your state. If I had not pulled her back, you would have cut her face open."

Shiro looked at the girl standing uncomfortably beside the Veela. Was I really that delirious? He wondered.

"It didn't happen though, Fleur," Annabelle hastened to say.

"It could have happened, and I insist on knowing what occurred. I can't have my guard losing his mind."

Shiro gave a sharp bitter laugh that attracted the attention of the nearby students. "I should have gone insane a long time ago." This wasn't good. He was growing too tense again, and unwelcome memories were flooding to mind. He fixed Fleur with a hard gaze. "I promise; it won't happen again."

He had to get out of there. Heedless of the consequences, Shiro lifted a hand and curled all fingers, save his index and middle, downwards. To the amazement of the onlookers, he vanished in a swirl of leaves.

Shiro reappeared on the castle's ground. He fell heavily onto the grass and stared up into the dark sky. Kotetsu's familiar signature appeared soon after. Without a word, the older ninja took a seat next to him.

"I saw what happened earlier." The man said after a while.

"Kotetsu," Shiro said with a sigh. He adopted a dry tone. "This mission is troublesome."

Kotetsu laughed long and loud. Nothing more was said that night. Kotetsu remained by him, comforting him with his presence and Shiro was grateful for it.


	13. Spars and Fireballs

AN: It's been a fair while I suppose. I apologize that this chapter is much shorter than the others, but I've been occupied, and haven't had the moment where I can properly sit down and write. This short piece I'm afraid to say is the only thing you can expect for another couple of weeks.

* * *

The sound of his own heavy breathing was the only audible thing in the dark night inside the Forbidden Forest. Kotetsu forced himself to slow his breath intake until it was nothing more than a sliver passing into his lungs. A sweat drop inched its way down the side of his brow before picking up speed and running down his cheek, leaving a chilly trail.

A sudden whistling of air to his right caused him to spin and fling the two shurikens clutched between his fingers at a dark shape darting for another tree limb. Of course they missed, and the dull wooden thuds announced their impact against the trees surrounding him.

The faintest of snickers, audible only to a shinobi of keenest hearing, rang out. Kotetsu pursed his lips wryly. He disliked intensely this moment of sparring; when Shiro would taunt and unnerve his target with his elusiveness.

Kotetsu leaped away from the forest floor onto a large limb of a sturdy tree where the thick foliage concealed him. His breath intake was again becoming erratic, but he steadied himself and waited. The four minutes that passed by was painstakingly slow. How he hated it when Shiro got the urge to toy with his prey. The dark haired Chunin was powerful in a straight up fight, and more times than not, ended up victorious against both Kotetsu and Izumo. But what he excelled in, was concealment, and striking with such swiftness, his foes were often taken unprepared. However, at times, he took too much pleasure in it.

A bird called out nearby, nearly startling the brash shinobi out of his senses. He had been so tense, expecting Shiro to suddenly swoop down that the twitter assaulted his senses like a hammer. His heart beat so loudly, he was debating if it was audible when the familiar whistle of a kunai caught his ears. In a flash, Kotetsu deflected the lazily thrown weapon and leaped from his cover. His eyes wildly scanned the area from which the kunai was thrown. He only had a few seconds at best to determine where Shiro was, and retreat before the other could sail at him. A displacement among the shadows of some overlapping branches 80 feet away caught his gaze. The displacement moved revealing itself to be a shadowy mass of humanlike proportion. A hail of shuriken and kunai followed its movement. Kotetsu leaped away. This wasn't good at all. Unlike the lone kunai which forced him from his hiding spot, these were thrown with determination. Shiro had had his fill, and was now closing in to devour his prey.

The objects whistled past and sank into the bark of the tree he had just occupied. With his heart beating so fast as to drown him in its rhythm, Kotetsu frantically adjusted his eyes towards Shiro's position. The mass was gone, and before dread could sink its claws into his mind, his senses screamed and he braced himself in midair as Shiro rammed into him.

With that arrogant smirk of a predator who knew his prey couldn't escape, Shiro struck at him. Kotetsu used his arms to block the blow, but that was a decoy as Shiro instantly kicked him hard in the abdomen, propelling back towards the ground where his back collided hard with the trunk of a tree.

Kotetsu grunted heavily at the impact. Forcing himself to move through the discomfort, he just managed by a mere few inches to avoid Shiro's fist which crashed into the now empty space occupying the bark.

With his pleasure of playing his opponents satiated, the young Chunin was now relentless. As Shiro half turned his head towards him with a slight smirk, Kotetsu groaned and faced his fate with the dignity becoming of his character. He fell to his knees with his hands clasped in supplication, uttering the plea: "Kami, have pity!"

Shiro dropped his combat stance with an expression of amusement and exasperation.

"Ko, you're not supposed to surrender like that."

"The result would have been the same," The older ninja retorted. "I just didn't want the extra pats." With another groan, Kotetsu dropped to the ground, and rubbed his stomach.

"You're a real pest when toy with your opponents you know?"

Shiro wasn't quite over that phase it seemed as he bared his teeth in an unsettling half grin. "I hope the scarcity of my presence wasn't too unnerving on an easily frightened soul as yourself."

Kotetsu growled and launched himself at the smirking chunin who dodged with ease all his rapid kicks and punches. During a lull, Kotetsu glared into Shiro's laughing eyes, and then smiles broke out on both their faces and they dropped their stances with a fair share of chuckles.

The two shinobi settled themselves against the surrounding trunks with relaxed sighs. Kotetsu wiped the respiration from his face and turned toward Shiro who lay comfortably rested against a tree. A moonbeam illuminated part of the young chunin's face, allowing Kotetsu to catch his usual collected features. But he knew his friend, and he could see past that supposed aloofness, Shiro was at peace. Kotetsu gave a glad smile which quickly turned sour as he remembered how Shiro had stalked him through the forest, giving him only glimpses of his form and using ranged weaponry to force him to move. A happy Shiro was not always the most enjoyable in a spar.

"You can't hide forever." Kotetsu said. Though the change wouldn't have been noticeable to anybody else, he saw the chunin's mood drop abruptly.

"I'm aware of that, Ko. Things are just much smoother if you can keep your distance." Shiro replied, a tired note in his voice. His features grew distant. "Those girls can't understand that. They insist on trying to find out who I really am."

"The other one seems to care for you."

Shiro snorted cynically. "Naïve girl that she is."

"Yet you like her."

Shiro slowly locked his eyes with Kotetsu's, and a moment of silence passed. "Yes." He admitted with reluctance, and displeasure coloring his tone. "I've never experienced genuine affection from a girl before. It wasn't like those other girls back home who are only attracted to a shinobi's strength and mystery. It was… comforting."

"You need to open up to them." Kotetsu said. Shiro's eyes were upon him again. The incredulous look was clear in those passive orbs. "You don't know how much good friendship can help."

"Of course I know," Shiro responded. "I have you and Izumo. Naruto, and the Hokage. There's Iruka and…" he trailed off unsurely.

"Exactly. It was not easy cracking your shell." Kotetsu smiled fondly. "You were ready to murder us in fact. Is it so bad to add two more friends to your life?"

"Those girls, yes. Kotetsu," Shiro stated. "These girls are not acquainted with our culture. You've experienced this world to some degree. What we are, what we do. We're monsters. This place is filled with fools preaching idealism, and too afraid to take harsh measures to settle problems."

"You're not a monster, Shiro." Kotetsu said gently. "The difference between a monster and you, is that monster wouldn't feel guilt and regret."

Shiro stared at him calmly. "Are you so sure? If I have to kill one of those girls, I'd do it without hesitation."

"Would you do it without remorse?"

Shiro was silent. Kotetsu nodded sagely and leaned back. Silence fell over them which was broken at length by Shiro giving a bare chuckle. "You should rephrase that. I'm a monster with a conscious."

Kotetsu scoured his brains to come up with a reply when the growls of some massive creature reached their ears. Both shinobo were instantly on their feet. The sound seemed to originate somewhere above them. How was that possible? The two shinobi crouched and melted back into the shadows. A rumbling roar reached them this time. The sound was moving. Both shinobi remained crouched, waiting for sounds to help them dictate their course of action. All was silent for a minute, then the ground thumped once, then again with greater force as if something massive had hit it. More threatening growls reached their ears, then voices, and the sound of rattling chains.

Shiro looked at Kotetsu who nodded. In a flash, both of them were crouching on the branches high above them. They then took off in the direction of the noise.

Shiro came to a stop at the edge of a clearing. The sight before him was surprising to say the least.

In the clearing were four massive cages that housed gigantic winged creatures. He recognized them instantly as gouts of flames were emitted from one's mouth. They were dragons. Around them were the handlers. Tents were being pitched at a fair distance from the cages. Boxes, and supplies were being stacked. The biggest of the dragons suddenly roared and shot a stream of fire at group of handlers that wandered to near. The men cried out and scattered. Shiro noted with interest that their robes seemed to be fire proof, or at the very least, resistant.

"I think that thing can rival an Uchiha's fireball." Kotetsu muttered in fascination.

"Mine's bigger." Shiro deadpanned. Kotetsu nearly fell from his perch at the unexpected joke delivered in such a serious fashion. Shiro had recovered his good mood.

"What are these people doing with such beasts?" Kotetsu wondered out loud. Shiro was silent as he studied the scene intently. The camp wasn't that far in the forest to be dangerous, but far enough to deter students from the castle into wandering in.

"They're for the tournament." Shiro stated suddenly. He chuckled unpleasantly. "Won't our client's daughter be delighted when she finds out she has to face a dragon as her first task. My, my, this will be interesting."

"Will you tell her?"

"Of course. Protecting her is our mission, we wouldn't want her to be caught unprepared. Though I won't deny that if she dies, we can head home early. The contract states that since she died where our protection wasn't able to be covered, the pay will not be retracted."

Shiro narrowed his eyes and studied each of the dragons intensely, marking their differentiating size and features into his memory for later study.

"I've seen enough." The chunin stated. He glanced at Kotetsu. "Are you coming?"

The other ninja shook his head. "I want to see more." He suddenly fixed Shiro with an amused smirk. "Are you ready to face them again?"

Shiro's features twitched. "It can't be helped." And he took off towards the castle. It wasn't that late. Fleur would still be up, and Annabelle would be with her. His stomach clenched. He refused to consider it nervousness. He was a shinobi.


	14. A Shinobi's Tale

Fleur opened the door to her quarters, and froze at the sight of Shiro comfortably seated on her open window sill. His face was turned away towards the moon.

Relief sprang up at the sight of her guard. It had been four days since his disappearance. It had caused quite a stir when he vanished in the middle of the Great Hall leaving nothing but leaves spiraling around. It was immediately assumed he had apparated. That theory was countered by the fact Apparation within Hogwarts was impossible because of a magical barrier, leading some students to say he was able to circumvent the obstacle. Fleur wasn't sure what to think. From her interactions with him, she established that he was wickedly fast, he never used a wand to fight, preferring physical combat, and she had never seen him cast a spell until now, and when he had healed her wrist on the second day after their meeting. Whatever he used, he cast by utilizing a single hand, further reinforcing her suspicion that he never had a wand in the first place.

She wanted to laugh at her own stupidity for assuming he was just a normal overly skilled wizard when they first met. Her father would only chose someone he trusted implicitly to complete the job, and that person happened to be Shiro, a person barely older than she was, and far from normal. What was he? Could she even call him a wizard?

Fleur shut the door with a thump, her eyes narrowing when he remained motionless. Did he hear her? He must have. It was another thing she learned about him. It was impossible for anyone to sneak up on him. She even tried it a few times alongside Annabelle. The result was a bored look, and snarky comment.

"You know I'm here don't you?" Fleur stated more than asked. After a long moment, Shiro tore his eyes away from the moon, and faced her.

"I was thinking about home, and was reluctant to leave my thoughts just yet."

"Where have you been these past days?" Fleur demanded. "Have you been ignoring your duties?" She knew the last part couldn't have been true. Somehow, he was always watching. And that was one thing she swore to discover.

"If I don't perform my duties to the requirement of the contract, I would only be shaming my superior." was the calm response. "I've been watching you, just out of sight."

"Shiro, why did you hide?" Fleur asked earnestly. "That night, I… apologize if I came off as harsh. You were ill, and I hold myself responsible for not realizing it. But something else was wrong with you. What was it?"

He didn't answer for a long while. His passive features she had come to regard as a mask cracked, and the shards fell revealing a worn face. As he looked back into her eyes, she saw how lifeless they appeared.

"Kotetsu, if this causes trouble later, I'll kill you." Shiro sighed in his native tongue.

Fleur blinked at the language. She heard it once before. It was, was, Japanese dialect? She was brought back to focus as her guard indicated her soft velvet chair. His expression and gesture was clear. She positioned her chair facing him, and sat expectantly.

"You're a troublesome girl, Miss Delacour." He stated passively. Fleur bristled. He had always treated her politely, but beneath his courteous attitude, she had sensed veiled contempt. It angered her, and she had responded by treating him haughtily, to remind him of his position and that he was hers to command. Now after the worry he had put her through, he was just going to begin by insulting her?

Shiro smirked inwardly as he saw Fleur tense, and flush. He'd better speak soon to avoid an outburst.

"Since the day we met, you've always been very curious about me, and I must say, it's been tiring deflecting your attempts to find out my history. I'm sure you've pieced together some things from what you've seen. What are they?"

Fleur reigned in her indignation. "You're not a wizard, not by our standards. You don't have a wand, and…" Fleur hesitated and looked at him uncertainly. He merely sighed.

"I can guess what you wanted to say. That I've killed people."

Fleur felt her heart quicken at his expression. The feeling of coldness it brought was like was like the Hogwarts ghosts passing through one's body. For a moment, a brief spark of amusement shone at the memory it brought of Shiro being surprised by the specters. People may not have been able approach him unknowingly, but ghosts were able to, at least once. The spirit of a baroness had come floating through the door he had been on verge of opening. The result was a sharp wooden thunk as one of his odd daggers lay quivering in the wood.

"Miss Delacour-"

"Fleur." She cut him off sharply. "I want you to call me by my name, like you do with Annabelle. And if you won't, I'll just make it an order."

A puzzled expression crossed his face. "Delacour is your name." She shot him a dangerous look at. "As you wish." He receded as Fleur leaned back pleased.

"I'm going to make you an offer."

"Will it be like your offer back at Beauxbatons?" Fleur asked pointedly. Shiro smiled at her.

"It'll much more fulfilling I can promise." His expression grew hard, and Fleur felt herself straightening at that. "I'll reveal what your father already knows of me, and more. In return, you'll promise to stop prying into my affairs, but-" Shiro said sharply, "you will also take the magical vow of silence never to disclose this to anyone without my permission. If you break it, you'll die. It's the same oath your father made when he signed the contract."

Fleur sat silent not quite able to believe what he was offering. She weighed the consequences. If her father had done the same, then she could as well. Here was a golden opportunity and she wasn't going to throw it away. Face set in determination, she draw her wand, and cast the magically sealing oath. If she would speak of this to anyone else, it would kill her. A slight shiver passed her frame as it dawned on her the enormity of the consequence.

Shiro watched her silently. He felt vulnerable. It was one of the rare times he was opening to a distant person. He would really give Kotetsu a proper throttling if he came to regret this act later. Seeing her complete the vow, he allowed his face to express his state.

"Now listen well, because I don't care to repeat it. Think of it more as a onetime use." Fleur leaned forward intently, her beautiful face set with enthusiastic interest. For a moment, Shiro dwelled on it, and then began.

"You are right that I've killed. I'm a trained a killer since I was six." Though she had more or less already decided on that fact, having it confirmed was like a sheet of ice passing through her; and since childhood? Fleur was shocked, and it shone on her features.

"You see, the land I came from is one in a constant state of war. Most of the fighting is done between assassins called shinobi. My parents were shinobi. I never knew my father, he was killed in the last war. My mother brought me up, and wanting to serve my home like they had done, I joined the Shinobi Academy at six, despite my mother's reluctance. It was almost at the end of graduation when my class was organized into a survival exercise taking place outside the village. It was a trap. We were attacked by enemy shinobi. Our traitorous instructor killed the other two that were overseeing the exercise. Those of us that didn't resist were kidnapped."

Shiro paused momentarily reliving the memory while Fleur sat silent. The Veela was in a state of shock. She could never have imagined someone having such a past. It was horrid, barbaric. How could someone live such a life?

"I was held prisoner for many years. During that time I was experimented on, and I survived. All my classmates had died. My captor was delighted, and sought to bring me to his side. I swore that I would escape, but I had to keep up appearances. I committed many… terrible acts in his service, but then my chance came when the hideout was discovered and attacked by shinobi from my village. I was able to kill my former instructor during the fighting, and escaped with my fellow shinobi." Shiro's voice grew soft. "I was ten when I finally stepped back inside my village. All those years spent thinking of my mother was for naught when I was told she had died after my abduction. All she left me was the home, her belongings, and a letter."

Shiro's eyes grew wet, and he allowed the first tears to appear. If he was going to reveal himself, why not do it fully? After all, it was only once.

"I was like an empty shell. I held onto the only thing that gave me purpose, my love for my home. I rejoined the ranks of my village's shinobi, and served in it ever since."

Shiro looked up, tear trails visible, and his eyes glistening. "Understand that shinobi are nothing more than trained killers, assassins that complete tasks to produce income, and protect their village. We live in a world filled with deceit, and violence. Your best friend could very well end up cutting your throat. Our 'magic' is quite different from yours. First off, we don't require wands to channel our techniques. We call it chakra, a mixture of spiritual, and physical energy, and we expel it using jutsus, our version of spells. That's how shinobi fight. We use chakra and physical weaponry to kill our opponents."

"Our government stands as thus. The land we dwell in is split into several regions all with its own feudal lords. In each region, there is a shinobi village. We are more or less free to manage our own affairs. The village is led by the strongest of shinobi known as the Hokage. The Hokage manages the entirety of the village affairs. The mission contracts consist of a variety of tasks, and these are taken by regular shinobi. In combat, we are far superior to wizards, and because of our secrecy, we are almost unknown. That is why your father chose us to protect you."

Shiro turned away, and gazed back at the moon. Fleur had to lean forward to catch his next words. "That is my story. You wish to know why I was troubled? It's because I am plagued by what I've done in my life. At least in my village, we are killers with feelings."

Fleur was left speechless. Part of her wished she hadn't inquired. Acting on an impulse, she left her seat, and closed in. Shiro jerked in surprise, but before he could act, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and withdrew, disappointed at his lack of reaction.

"Thank you for telling me all this." Fleur said sincerely, hoping to express her feelings now before the weight of his character fully sunk in. He looked at her silently before his features morphed back into their emotionless expression. There was the Shiro she saw on a daily basis.

"I've told you my story, now I expect you to hold your end, and leave me be." Shiro said as he finally moved from the sill. He quickly wiped the wet trails from his eyes, and walked past Fleur to a small table on which a thick book lay.

"Of course I will." Fleur exclaimed somewhat insulted. "I don't break promises."

Shiro merely tapped the book in response. "Onto my reason for appearing, this book is a study on dragons." He met her eyes. "Because dragons are what you'll be facing as the first task of the tournament."

Fleur blinked rapidly. "What did you say? She asked not quite able to believe her ears.

"You'll be facing a dragon. I've confirmed this with the Headmaster, and he says to try and keep this a secret."

Shiro tapped the book again. "I've been in the forest where they are kept, and marked the pages that describes their type." A slow smirk appeared. "I wish you goodnight." He walked past the stunned Veela to the door.

"Wait!" Fleur called, recovering herself. "Will you tell Annabelle about yourself?" she asked somberly.

"I don't know." Shiro responded tonelessly. "And you'd be better off working on how to fight those beasts." The door opened, and shut, leaving Fleur alone. The Veela took the book, and fell onto her bed. What a way to end the night. Too overwhelmed with the information thrust on her, she placed the book on her nightstand, and blew out the candlelight; opting for sleep rather than further thought.

Outside, Shiro leaned against a wall wondering if he had made the right decision. He felt relief, a sense of calmness, but only time would give him the exact answer.


	15. Notice

I apologize if I got your hopes up. This is not a chapter, but an update on the where I currently stand.

Since the last chapter, I have been focusing my spare time on rewriting the story. I just feel there are things I could have added or gone into detail about to improve the plot. Looking at some of my earlier chapters has made me cringe at my writing.

I am still unsure how I wish to proceed. The first chapter of my rewrite is 12 pages long (Yikes!) Quite a hefty number compared to my average of 6. I'm undecided if that's good or bad. My plan is to focus on the rewrite until I have couple of chapters done, then compare it to my original story. If I feel the rewrite is better, I will be canceling this story with some regret. However it's not all bad news. The general plotline will remain the same, just with some changes.

Until next time.


	16. Final Update

I have finally decided to go with the rewrite. There were several things that irked me. The lack of character development, the pacing of the plot, characters that I originally wanted to add, and just details in general including my writing in several chapters.

During this time, I wrote out the drafts for four chapters of my rewrite, and finally polished the first into a state I feel is ready to be posted. So with some regret, I am officially abandoning A Long Way From Home, and rewriting it as This Tormented Mask. It will still be the same story, just different in some aspects.

I initially thought about just deleting all chapters from my original story, and replacing them with the rewrite but found myself unable to do that. A Long Way From Home was my first story I ever posted publically, and I like to keep it as a personal milestone. To those still following it, I apologize, but the flaws I see prevent me from continuing it. Whether you enjoy, or dislike the rewrite makes no difference to me for my writer's self will be appeased.

So here ends this story to be born anew. The prologue for This Tormented Mask is up.


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